


A Piece of Myself I Left at Hogwarts

by iMickey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: After 100.000 words I think I can, Can I start calling this slow-burn?, Draco's got more children than in the epilogue, Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Flowerlanguage, Fluff, French-speaking!Draco, French-speaking!Malfoys, Lots of Angst Actually, M/M, Match-making, Meddling Children, Mentioned Remus Lupin, Multi, Nightmare routine, Nightmares, No Smut, Papa!Draco, Professor!Malfoy, Professor!Potter, Slow Burn, Very sweet Draco, WIP, Yeah I can, bit of angst, dada professor, epilogue compliant, it's slow burn, mentioned Sirius Black, potion professor draco, sort of, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:36:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 59
Words: 264,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iMickey/pseuds/iMickey
Summary: Draco Malfoy, father of four children, divorced husband of Astoria Greengrass, and French-speaking Potions Master, is given the chance to become Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts.Harry Potter, father of three children, divorced husband of Ginny Weasley, and only a few years aware of being gay, is given the chance to become Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts.Their children make sure they end up together.Or, an 'Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers' Drarry fic.Translated toRussianbyaxstrail!





	1. Platform 9 3/4

Draco woke up with a bed full of children. Strange.  
It had stormed at night, and all his children were afraid of the thundering and lightning. They always snuck into the Master bedroom and joined him in his bed. So really, it wasn’t a strange occurrence that his children were lying next to him.  
It was a strange occurrence that they were still sleeping soundly, while it was already ten AM. Usually, they were running about the house the moment the sun peeked through the curtains, and by eight AM, the first tears were streaming down faces.

Draco didn’t complain, though. He could enjoy a quiet morning in the library.

He was also able to enjoy a breakfast without burned toast and spilled tea, because his house elf was nowhere to be found, and he had to make his own breakfast. His house elf, Harky, hadn’t mastered the use of Muggle toasters and tea kettles yet, and Draco had forbidden him to use magic on food. It ruined the taste. And since Draco was adamant to have toasted bread for breakfast, he was usually forced to eat black ashes.

After breakfast, he moved to the library to read The Daily Prophet. It was… interesting. For the first time in approximately fifteen years, there was nothing written about him or his family. There was no article saying he was a disgrace to wizardry, or the new Malfoy Lodge was too grand for a Death Eater, or about the new job he would start today and which had created quite the ruckus, or about his divorce with Astoria. There wasn’t even anything about his children being suspiciously private at school.

His children. Yes, his treasures and the best things that ever happened to him. He couldn’t even regret marrying Astoria, because this marriage had given him the kind of happiness he would never have hoped to have. And now that Astoria was gone from his life, it was perfect.

He had four children. The oldest two, a girl and a boy of thirteen years old, would be starting their third year at Hogwarts. His daughter Aquila was sorted into Ravenclaw. It hadn’t been a surprise; ever since she could walk and talk, she had displayed such an intelligence and an insatiable curiosity that it was very unlikely she would be Sorted anywhere else. And honestly, her name even meant Eagle. Her mother had found it difficult, though. While Scorpius, his son, was sorted into Slytherin to fulfil the family tradition, Astoria couldn’t get over having a Ravenclaw daughter and had barely talked to her afterwards. Three months after a heavily strained Christmas break, Draco and Astoria were officially divorced.  
Aquila was not only clever and witty, she was also very beautiful. She had the thick, black hair of her mother, but lacked the air of arrogance that seemed to waft around Astoria. And where Astoria’s hair was sleek and static, Aquila’s locks curled and always seemed to be softly touched by a breeze. Draco strongly disliked having such a daughter. She was bound to attract boys, and what if a Weasley or a Potter laid their hands on her? Draco also knew that there was a danger of unwelcome attention. He raged inside, whenever he thought of someone touching her without her permission.

Her twin brother Scorpius looked very much like his father, or so everyone said. He was a proud owner of the Malfoy blonde hair, and had perfected the Malfoy scowl and Malfoy mask very early in his life. Whenever Draco would have Pansy or Blaise over for dinner, Scorpius would glare and scowl at them. Pansy once mentioned to be rather scared of the boy, because if he had such foul expressions when he was only six years old, she wouldn’t want to meet him when he was around his twenties.  
Deep down inside, however, Scorpius was the sweetest child. He hated everyone who would stand in Aquila’s way and protected his youngest brother with his life, when they walked down Diagon Alley. His smile could light up the world, and his laughter actually tinkled. He was a very proud boy, though. Proud of his family and proud of his heritage —if one just skipped the part his family played in the Wizarding Wars. He didn’t dislike Muggles, but did tend to be attracted to purebloods. But, Draco reasoned, Scorpius had always chosen the old brooms of his father, rather than a new Firebolt, even when he couldn’t see the difference yet. He probably just senses old magic.

After the twins came Cassiopeia. She was also Malfoy blond, but Draco tended to associate it more with Luna Lovegood than with him. Must be the male/female thing. Cassiopeia was the most ruthless and thoughtless of the four. She could fly a broom straight into a tree because she wasn’t paying attention. She was energetic —very energetic— and wanted to try everything. Her eyes were bright with pleasure, and whenever she was sad, she cried with loud sobs. She had deprived him of many hours of sleep. As a baby or a toddler, she had cried a lot at night. Astoria refused to get up in the middle of the night, and as such, Draco had formed quite the bond with their own little Moaning Myrtle. (Astoria also never liked the fact that Draco called Cassie that. When she left, ‘Myrtle’ became Cassie’s standard nickname.)  
Cassie had been one of the longest Hatstall Draco had ever heard of. McGonagall and Granger had taken a long time to be Sorted, but even they had talked about Cassie being exceptional. The Hat couldn’t decide whether Cass was a Slytherin or a Gryffindor. To be frank, Draco thought she belonged in Gryffindor. He didn’t really see the Slytherin part; in his opinion, crying and begging wasn’t a Slytherin way of getting what you want. Eventually, Cassie had been sorted into Slytherin, but “only because she was nagging my magic off to make sure she got into Slytherin,” according to the Sorting Hat.

And then the last one. Ophiuchus wasn’t planned —Astoria had said she never wanted more than three children—, but Draco couldn’t be happier. It truly felt like his family was complete. Phi was also very special. He was a Metamorphmagus. Unfortunately, Draco wasn’t completely sure what his natural appearance was. There were two boys in Phi. The first one was a blonde with a thin face and sharp angles, and the second a scrawny boy with a black mess that he calls hair and dark green eyes. Draco had no idea what kind of atrocities he had done to deserve a mini-Potter tumbling through his house. Or, well… Never mind.  
The worst and most confusing thing was that Phi not only changed appearances, but also his character. Whenever he wanted to play with Cassie —which usually consisted of climbing trees or breaking things—, he morphed into mini-Potter. When they were entertaining guests, he tried to be as poised as possible, and never showed anything else than his the Malfoy façade. These two forms weren’t that bad, really. It just seemed like Draco had a son who was very close with a Potter, and they were always playing hide and seek. In the early days, it confused Draco when he woke up with Potter lying beside him: the Potter he remembered from their first year. Small, scrawny and incredibly impulsive.

“Papa!” Draco was forcibly pulled out of his thoughts by a loud and high-pitched scream. He looked up from the paper, and saw Cassie standing in front of him. “Papa, we have to start packing! We can’t be late for the train! Come on, you need to help me. Harky doesn’t know what I should pack! Papa, come on, now.” Draco sighed softly. Right. Today, he would bring his children to Hogwarts. Time to start packing.  
He stood up and moved to the wing where all the bedrooms were. He met Cass and Harky in Cassie’s room, as expected.

“Harky is sorry, Master Malfoy, but Harky does not know which robes are better for the Yule Ball.” Draco smiled and said the house elf could go. He then turned to the mess his daughter had made of her room. Through the walls, he heard Aquila and Scorpius laugh and discuss what they should bring. Phi was jumping on Draco’s bed. At least, Draco hoped he was jumping and wasn’t letting out accidental magic.

“Cassie, love, the Yule Ball is very far away. I will make sure you’ve got your robes and Yule dress by the time it comes around. The rest of the packing isn’t very difficult, is it? Just take a good amount of clothes in which you can enjoy the out- and indoors. No, no, don’t take that gown, it’s far too beautiful. You won’t need it.  
‘Quila, where are Cassie’s black trousers? You borrowed them last week, right?” Draco moved through the wing to try and make sure everyone’s trunks were packed. Bedroom in and bedroom out, surrounded by a flurry of children and clothes. He caught the black trousers that Aquila had flung his way, sent her a disapproving look —which resulted in a giggling fit of Phi— and moved to Scorpius’ room to see how far he was with packing. He let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank Merlin, you are ready. Can you do something with Phi for a second? I am just packing the girls’ trunks, and then we can go. Phi’s trunk is also packed, it is in his room.” Scorpius just nodded, picked up his little brother and moved towards the playroom.

He felt nervous, but pushed it down. Not only his three oldest would go to Hogwarts this year, but he and Phi would as well. He was offered the position of Potions Professor and was assigned a room in which Phi could live. McGonagall —the woman still lived! — had promised it would be no problem for Phi to live at Hogwarts. Draco hoped it was the truth.

They were ready. There was a one hour drive ahead of them. Draco didn’t want to Apparate with four children in tow, so especially for these situations, he had bought a Muggle car. He loaded the trunks in the luggage compartment and then loaded the children in the car. While driving, the boys and girls kept singing the Hogwarts song, made up their own House songs, Cassie sang a song she learned from listening to the Gryffindor students and Phi created a poem where everything either rhymed with Hogwarts, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. The entire car applauded when he was finished, and Phi grinned widely.

Draco saw they were nearing London. He shushed all of them. “Alright, some rules.” Cassie groaned at this prospect. “As you know, I will be Professor at Hogwarts this year. That means I will be your teacher. Now, this can be either very awkward for all of us, or it will be fun. First rule: I will never ever treat you differently than the rest. If you talk in my class, points will be detracted. If you mess up a potion, I will make you do it again. If you don’t study for a test, I will fail you. Second rule: you will not back mouth me, nor will you be rude. The fact that I am your father does not mean you can disrespect me. Third rule: You are allowed to visit me in my room, but you cannot enter my study. Same as at home, right? And the fourth rule is just for today: at the platform, you stay close to me. When we board the train, you will join me in our compartment, and you make sure you have got all your belongings with you. The moment the train starts moving, you are allowed to find your friends. Understood?”  
A chorus of yesses were heard in the car while Draco parked it. He turned around and smiled at his little family. “This is going to be fun,” he heard Aquila whisper to Scorpius. It didn’t sound sarcastic, though, so he took it as a compliment.

“Papa! Papa! Papapapapapapapa!” Phi was tugging on the hem of Draco’s shirt, which Phi had untucked in order to get his father’s attention. Draco tucked it back in and looked his youngest in the eyes. “What is it, ‘Phiuchus?” he mumbled, but he already knew. “All right then, here we go. Three, two, one, and whoopsidaisy.” Draco pulled up the nine-year-old and carried Phi on his hip. “And what about your trunk, now, huh?” Phi smiled winningly, Draco sighed and shrunk it to fit it in his pocket. “When you go to Hogwarts at eleven, you will have to carry it yourself,” he promised.

He felt Cassie reach for his left hand. Even though she was almost twelve and going for her second year, she was not afraid to hold her father’s hand. Draco smiled at her, and quickly started looking for his twin. “Scorp, ‘Quila!” he called over the chatter of King’s Cross. They appeared right in front of him with a smile and starting walking. They didn’t get lost in the crowd anymore.

On the other side of the wall, it wasn’t much quieter. There was more space, however, because everyone seemed to avoid them a bit. Phi was the only one who didn’t notice. Draco was the only one who minded.


	2. At Hogwarts Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this chapter isn't written as good as the first. I'm sorry, I guess my head wasn't in the game. I'll try better for the next one!

Draco was just sitting down in the Great Hall, when his children pushed through the crowd to get to him. Phi jumped on his lap and quickly morphed into his Malfoy self, and the other three leaned against the table. Behind Scorpius, Draco saw a familiar black-haired mob.

“Albus,” he greeted. Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius’ best friend and son of Draco’s worst rival, nodded politely.  
“Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Will you be teaching us Potions this year?” he asked, while he held out his hand, like he always did. Draco was opening his mouth to answer, when the Sorting Hat was placed in front and every student was ordered to go to their respective House tables. Aquila kissed his cheek quickly, before moving towards her friends. The Hat began to sing his song and started Sorting the new students. Draco wasn’t really paying attention: he was looking around the Great Hall, which he hadn’t seen since the day the Dark Lord had been defeated. It was… it was beautifully restored, with the sky-reflecting ceiling more accurate than ever.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a deep voice said behind Draco. He felt himself tense. No way on earth that this was his faith.  
“Yes, very well done,” he answered. His tone was icy, and made Phi turn around. His eyes widened slightly, not very noticeably, and he looked at his father for a second.

Potter sat down next to Draco, occupying the only empty spot at the High Table. He took in Draco’s dismissive stance, and smiled at Ophiuchus. The boy only inclined his head, before he turned to face Draco completely. Draco suppressed a smile at Phi’s typically Malfoy way of addressing Potter. When Phi opened his mouth, however, Draco got uncomfortable.

“Papa! Papa, it’s Harry Potter! You know, from your time at Hogwarts. Papa, you must do it! Go on, do it! You have to shake -”  
“Ophiuchus. That’s enough,” Draco interrupted him, before Phi embarrassed him further. His right hand clenched for a second. Phi just searched his face, and turned back to face Potter.

“Good evening. My name is Malfoy, Ophiuchus Malfoy. And you are?” he enquired, politely offering his hand. Draco saw Potter smirk from the corner of his eye.  
“I am Harry Potter, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts.”  
They shook hands, and immediately, Phi turned into mini-Potter. Draco felt his energy and his magic bursting, so he circled an arm around his little waist and pulled him closer.

“You’re a Metamorphmagus,” Potter stated.  
Phi leaned back against Draco’s chest. “At least we know your eyes are working correctly,” he giggled. Potter laughed.

“You know, my godson is a Metamorphmagus as well. His name is Teddy Lupin.”  
Phi hair turned green for a second, his colour of enthusiasm. “Teddy Lupin? Do you mean the son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks? The old DADA Professor who got through every month as a werewolf and never even killed someone? And the metamorphmagus who fought just after giving birth? They both died in the Battle of Hogwarts, right? They were so brave!” Phi vented to his father. Draco just nodded encouragingly and smiled, before he remembered that Potter was sitting next to him and likely examining his expressions.

“You seem to know a lot about them.”  
“Papa has told me everything about them. He admired them, he says.” Draco clenches his hand again. This wasn’t going so well. Phi was far too sharable for Draco’s liking. Draco also felt Potter’s gaze on his profile. “And papa wants us to know every detail about the Battle, because we can learn from it.”

“How so?”  
“Because in those stories are bravery, determination and love. And those are the most important things in life,” Phi recounted, a sentence Draco had told them many times.  
Draco nudged him with his head. “You’re forgetting one,” he whispered.  
“And family!” Phi added quickly.  
“The stories hold bravery, determination and love, combined with the strength of family bonds. Those are the most important things in life.” He beamed at Draco. Draco smiled back, a wide and warm smile that only his children could make appear. When he chanced a glance at Potter, he wore a gobsmacked expression which he schooled quickly.

“That’s very true, Ophiuchus,” Potter said. “Very true. The people who died there were brave and good. All of them believed in the same thing, and they sacrificed themselves. It’s very admirable.” Phi nodded. He took a bite from Draco’s plate, which made Draco realise he was hungry. Bending over and around his son in a much practiced manner, he started eating, while Phi continued his conversation with Potter.

“Sorry for asking, but why are you here? You can’t be a student yet, unless your father has pulled some strings,” Draco heard Potter say.

Draco’s face twisted. Classic Potter. His son hadn’t done anything wrong, so he should stop his attack.

Phi merely laughed.  
“No, my father always plays by the rules. He is the new Potions Professor and Slytherin Head of House, and since there is no one who I could live with when he was here, Professor McGonagall decided to house me as well.”

“Oh?” Potter let out a surprised sound. “Why is there no one who can take of your?”  
“Because my parents have divorced, and my grandmother lives in France. Even though I speak French perfectly, I am not willing to live so far away from my family.”

“Right. Family bonds,” Potter murmured. “You speak fluent French?” he asked then. Phi nodded, and started showing off his French.

“Oui, papa m’a appris des Français au début, parce que c’est la langue plus élégante. Et parce que ma grand-mère vit donc en France. Mais surtout parce que c’est la langue dans laquelle papa peut s’exprimer le mieux. Il n’est pas, papa ?” Phi rattled. Draco quirked an eyebrow at Potter’s stunned look.  
“Oui, Ophiuchus, tu as raison. But perhaps you shouldn’t speak in a language not everyone can follow. It is not polite.” Draco chastised softly.

“Oh, of course! Mr. Potter, I said that papa taught us French, because it’s the most elegant language, and because my grandmother lives in France and because it’s the language in which papa can express himself best. Is there a language other than English that you speak?”

Potter tore his gaze away from Draco and shook himself out of his stupor. He saw Draco’s fingers clench around his fork and wondered if Draco thought about his Parseltongue as well. “Er, no. There isn’t. But I think it is really cool that you can speak French. It is a beautiful language.”  
“Really, Mr. Potter, I think you don’t believe French is a beautiful language. I think you have never thought about it, and merely said so to be polite. Being polite isn’t bad, but lying to flatter someone is. Papa says we shouldn’t do it, and so you shouldn’t either,” Phi spoke wisely. He was blond again.

“Ophiuchus,” Draco murmured. “Calling people out on it, isn’t polite either. Excuse me, Potter, but this one doesn’t exactly know when to stop talking. You shouldn’t pay much attention to him.”  
Phi made an indignant sound, while Potter chuckled.

“It really doesn’t matter, Malfoy. I like honesty. So, Ophiuchus, how do you know that I have never thought about it?” Potter grinned.  
“Call me Phi. You are incapable of lying. Everything about you screams ‘Lie! Lie! Lie!’ It might have been amusing, if it wasn’t so blatantly pathetic.”  
“Phi! You don’t say that about people!” Draco berated his son. He was becoming exasperated; Phi was never like this. Yet Potter didn’t seem to mind.

“Pathetic, you say? Why, thank you. It only means that I haven’t had much experience with lying. Isn’t that a good thing?”  
“Usually, it is. But one would think that the Boy Who Lived Twice would know how to utter a little white lie without blushing pink.”  
Draco struggled with his conflicting emotions. Firstly, Phi shouldn’t speak like this, especially not because Draco didn’t know Potter’s intentions. Second, he couldn’t show his exasperation to Potter, because, again, he didn’t know Potter’s intentions. Last of all, he was having great difficulty in hiding his mirth. A nine-year-old who was challenging an adult Potter like Draco used to do; who wouldn’t enjoy that?

“So you think you can see when I lie and when I tell the truth?” Potter asked, with amusement dancing in his eyes.  
“Try me,” Phi merely responded, while he took a careful bite. He turned his head slightly to see his father’s reactions and noticed the tiniest twitch in his jaw that always preceded laughter.

Potter seemed to think for a moment.  
“Okay. I love treacle tart. True or false?”  
Phi scoffed. “True. Everyone knows that.”  
“I guess you’re right. Er… I still have the first Snitch I caught. True or false?”  
“True. You keep every Snitch you’ve ever caught. You’re sentimental,” Phi answered around another bite of his dinner. Draco silently watched them and secretly loved the way Phi could say something neutral and make it sound like a small insult. Potter just grinned a bit wider with every insult Phi flung his way. He loved this kid.

“I might be about my Hogwarts years, yeah. So, a difficult one: I dance a lot, but only when I’m completely alone in my house.”  
“Come on, Mr. Potter. These are simple facts that everyone can know about you. Yes, you dance, but only when you’re alone. Please ask something that hasn’t been plastered all over the papers.”

Potter laughed, a bit surprised. “Okay, okay. This is difficult for me too, you know. Let me see. Something that hasn’t been in the papers, not a simple fact. How about… I liked Transfigurations class.”  
“True. You liked everything connected to magic, except for History of Magic. You could even appreciate Potions, when everything went correctly.”  
“How do you know all this? Okay, I’ll think of something more difficult. True or false: my toothbrush is blue.”  
Phi rolled his eyes, Draco could just feel him do it. Perhaps because he had to suppress the urge to do it as well. “False, Mr. Potter. You’re toothbrush is as red as Godric’s cloak. As I said, you’re sentimental."

Potter let out a surprised honk of laughter. “I am starting to suspect Scorpius from spying on me! How can you know so much about me? Not even my best friends know these things!”

“I told you about your lying disabilities. But even without you blinking your eyes twice quickly when you lie, I would know that your toothbrush is red. You’re sentimental and nostalgic for the Gryffindor common room, to the extent that your ex-wife’s hair is red. It isn’t bad, it’s just… Interesting.”

Potter was silent for a moment, and Draco wondered if Phi had gone too far by mentioning the female Weasley.

“I must say, Phi, that I have had the best times of my life at Hogwarts. It was my first real home, even with the war going on. I didn’t have the best childhood, you know.” Why, why was Potter sharing this with a nine-year-old Malfoy of all people? And why did he have to mention the war? What was wrong with him? Draco clenched his jaw and tried to keep calm. Phi noticed his discomfort -or knew Draco well enough to know he would get uncomfortable- and leaned back heavily against his father’s chest.

“Hogwarts is a good place, I think. It might become my home away from home as well, right, papa?” Phi asked. Draco would cease to be surprised and proud of his son’s way of redirecting a conversation. He smiled when Potter started telling Phi all kinds of stories about the things he used to do with his friends. He mostly told things Phi already knew, either from the paper or from Scorpius or from Draco, but Phi still listened attentively and laughed at the right times.

Draco refocussed his attention to the rest of the Great Hall. Students were chattering and enjoying a superb meal, Professor McGonagall -or Head Mistress McGonagall- conversed with some of the other teachers. Draco caught Aquila’s eye and gave her a small smile. She smiled her beautiful wide grin back at him and turned her head to seek contact with Scorpius. Draco followed her gaze. Cassiopeia was animatedly telling a story to one of her friends and made elephant noises. Scorpius nudged her with a scowl on his face, but after Cassie challenged him with a raised eyebrow, they started a competing for the best animal noise. The entire Slytherin table either joined or laughed loudly. Albus supported Scorpius after every sound he made with violent applause and whistling. After a while, Cassie gave up because she couldn’t control her laughter. Albus stood up victoriously and acclaimed Scorpius as the ‘Killer In Nasty Growls’, or ‘KING’. Scorpius laughed and bowed a few times, before they both sat down and resumed their eating. Draco heard the rest of the Slytherins call Scorpius ‘King’ for the rest of the meal.

When he made eye contact with Scorpius, his son beamed. Draco couldn’t help his huff of laughter and shook his head fondly. Suddenly, he heard a deafening silence from his left side. He chanced a look at Potter and saw him already watching him. Phi was slowly pushing his food around with his fork.  
“I guess that makes you father of the King,” Potter said with a smirk, before he turned away to finish his dinner. Draco felt a jab in his stomach. He had showed his greatest weakness to Harry Potter of all people. How could he have been so stupid? His back stiffened in anger at himself.

He would be happy when he could direct his students to the dungeons and get rid of Potter.

After dinner, the Slytherins were herded towards the dungeons, and the usual talk had been held by the Prefects. The students were scattering and finding spots in the common room, where they would spend the rest of their evening.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Draco said. Without raising his voice, he was able to quieten the entire Slytherin common room and receive full attention. He wanted to make sure some things were well understood by the new and the older students.

“This year, I will be your Potions Master and your Head of House. My name is Draco Malfoy. As some of you know, my children attend Hogwarts with you. Rest assured, no one will get a special treatment. Not under my watch. I will first set a few rules, which you will have to keep in mind and follow.  
One. I will not tolerate any jokes at the expense of me or any of my colleagues, here at Hogwarts.  
Two. Any inappropriate behaviour will be broken apart and you will receive detention.  
Three. No boys will step foot in girl’s dorms and no girls will step foot in boy’s dorms.  
Four. Any bullying, bothering or pestering of other students either Slytherin or otherwise will be punished.  
Five. If I find any of you partying, being out of bed or consuming spirits without my explicit permission, you will feel the consequences.  
In short, not much different from what your guardians would say.”

Draco heard a snicker ripple through the room and he let his mouth twitch up in a smile.

“You are all Sorted into Slytherin. Some of you have been here for years now, others see the dungeon for the first time. To all of you apply the same thing. Slytherin is most commonly seen as the evil house. Slytherin isn’t particularly liked, and has sometimes done nothing to refute their reputation. You will have to endure this. Perhaps other students will dislike you, hate you even, for being a snake. But remember one thing: you are in this together. Stick together like a family. Do not betray a Housemate, because that is like betraying a brother or sister. Care for each other. Your Housemates are all you have in times of trouble. Know that whatever they say about being a Slytherin, isn’t necessarily true.”

Some students nodded, a few first years seemed to brighten up. They had heard the rumours about Slytherin, and were disappointed to belong there. Hearing these words, cheered them up a bit.  
Draco also saw a couple of Slytherins -mostly first years- sneer and glare at him. He felt a stab in his chest.

“I know,” he continued in a softer tone, “that there are people among you who do not trust a Malfoy. Let alone a Malfoy with a twisted scar on his forearm. I know that I have to earn your good opinion and fight for your trust. And I will. That is a promise I intend to keep.” When he locked eyes with Scorpius, he saw his son’s eyes widen in surprise, and then soften in encouragement. Albus, next to him, was squirming a bit uncomfortably, but when he caught Draco’s gaze, he smiled as well.

“There is one unofficial rule that I haven’t mentioned yet. Because we Slytherins have to stick together, one thing is more important than anything else. Secrets are to keep. Things people tell you, as a Housemate, cannot be told further. As most second-and-up students know, there is something called ‘Slytherin House Secrets’, usually abbreviated to SHS. These secrets are things every Slytherin knows, or is allowed to know. But  no one outside these walls may hear about it. There is even magic involved, in case you might be tempted to spill the secret. Only the bearer of the Secret can decide who else knows. Every other who tries to tattle, will be hunted by their worst fears. It is an institution installed by Salazar Slytherin himself. It is an essential part of being a Slytherin.

“And let me tell you the first official Slytherin House Secret. I regret practically all things I did before, and even a bit after, the War. If I could do it again, I would. Hands down. And so, I will show you all of you, not just the ones who doubt me that I am trustworthy. If something is bothering you, if you are having a hard time, or if you just want to talk, you can and may come to me. I might not be your father or mother, brother or sister, grandfather or grandmother, but I can offer a listener. And perhaps, I might even be able to advice you.”

The smiles on multiple faces were lovely to see. Draco knew, from stories of Scorp and Cassie, that the last Slytherin Head had been an awful, grumpy and unsociable man. Draco had decided, when he got the job, that he would be different. He would be like Severus used to be to him in a good mood; a kind and wise mentor. The various reactions he heard and saw were a sure sign he was on the right path. Perhaps, somewhere in this year, he would even be able to remove the remaining scowls.

“And just to emphasise the point: Not under any circumstances do I tolerate students bullying or mocking others. Not even Gryffindors. I know they can be annoying and pushy, but please, try to keep your composure,” he smirked.  
“Now, curfew is at 10.00 PM. If I see or hear anything or anyone after ten, you will have to be prepared for detention. Go to your dorms, meet your friends and make some new ones. Disperse.”

The Slytherin House scrambled to comply. Scorpius, Albus and Cassie walked up to him and smiled. “Good speech, papa,” Scorpius said.  
“You are already better than Higgins was, last year,” Albus added.  
“Although, Gryffindors aren’t that bad, papa. You shouldn’t encourage this division.”  
Scorpius laughed. “Oh, come on, Cassie! Gryffindors are awful!”  
“They’ve never been bad to me.”  
“That’s because you were only a first year. They leave off the first years. Usually,” Scorp smirked with a side glance to his father. Draco raised an eyebrow in challenge, which only made his son snicker.  
“Trust me, Cassiopeia, I live in a house full of Gryffindors. They are… difficult to deal with, at least,” Albus joined in. Cassie rolled her eyes.  
“That’s just because the Potter family is stubborn like a donkey. Papa can tell you all about it!”

All three of them laughed loudly, attracting attention from the rest of the students.

“Really, since when are you allowed to mock me?” Draco asked. “I don’t remember giving you permission to pester me with my own history. Especially when it concerns Potters. Nothing personal, Albus, I quite like you.”

Albus grinned.  
“Of course. But then again, I am not a Gryffindor, am I?” His face cleared.  
“I do wonder, sometimes, about you and my father. He never told me anything, and your children seem to know everything. It’s unfair.”

Scorpius chuckled. “I would gladly tell you what I know, but I doubt it’s everything. Papa told us enough so we would understand, but I fear it’s not even half of it. I don’t think he told us exactly what made him hate your father so.”  
Cassie opened her mouth to say something, but Draco interfered.

“That’s quite enough. Go to sleep. It isn’t really your business,” he told them sternly. Scorpius smiled.  
“Good night, papa!” He gave Draco a one-armed hug and ushered Albus to their dorm. Cassie flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Nighty night,” she called out.

Draco frowned. He never saw her with friends, other than some friendly acquaintances. But she never complained, so perhaps it wasn’t a problem.  
He went upstairs, where Phi was already reading peacefully. Draco had sent him up the moment they walked through the portrait. Phi looked up from where he sat on the bed and beamed.

“Hi, papa! I was reading your book about Potions. What are mandrakes?” Draco grinned. “Oh, Phi, I wouldn’t want to bore you with that.”  
“But it isn’t boring!”  
“In that case, I wouldn’t want to make your first year at Hogwarts boring, by telling you all the good stuff now.”  
“Technically, this is my first year at Hogwarts.”  
“Then, I would want you to go to sleep right now, because it is already far past your bedtime. Come on, close the book. You ought to sleep.”

Phi reluctantly put the book on his bedside table and turned on his side. Draco knew he wouldn’t sleep until the lights were off, so he quickly changed into his pyjamas and waved the lights off. He lay staring at the ceiling, slowly feeling himself relax into a drowsy state.

“Papa?” he heard softly, from the bed next to him. So Phi was still not sleeping.  
“I’m sleeping, Phi, and so should you.”  
“But papa…”  
“Yes, Ophiuchus?”  
“Where do you think I would be Sorted?”  
Draco sighed. “You don’t have to think about that yet. You’ll have to wait two more years to find out.”  
“Papa,” Phi whined.  
“I don’t know, Phi. You could be in Slytherin, if you wanted to. You’re ambitious enough, Merlin, you were reading a book, explicitly written for Potions Masters! Lack of determination won’t be what’s stopping you. On the other hand, you could also be in Ravenclaw”  
“Like ‘Quila!”  
“Yes, like Aquila. Because you are curious enough, and critical, and very smart. If you like, you could be in Hufflepuff. Politeness and supporting people is important to you, right? You want people to go to you for support and a friendly face?” Phi nodded eagerly.  
“But, dearest, little devil that you are, you could easily get into Gryffindor. You try to be brave, right? You would sacrifice yourself for others, if you’d think it was the right thing to do.”

Phi pondered in silence.  
“So really, you don’t know?” he asked then. Draco agreed. “I don’t know. But Ophiuchus, do you know what that means? It means that you can get into any House you want. You can become any person you want. And that is something to be proud of.”

His son let out a soft sound of pride and agreement. Then he settled a bit better in his bed, and soon Draco heard his breathing even out in sleep. After a while of determinedly ignoring his nerves for the next day, Draco fell asleep as well.


	3. Re-meeting old acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! It won't be a regular thing though; it's just that my friends are bugging me to post more.

The next morning found Draco in his classroom. He had left breakfast early; he wasn’t hungry and Potter was annoying him with his endless talking. Phi was mingling with his siblings and their friends, so he couldn’t divert Potters attention. After Potter had mentioned that Draco only ate two pieces of toast, Draco had sent him a look, clearly saying: how dare you comment on my breakfast habits? When Potter had focussed his attention back on his own plate, Draco had stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

So now, here he was in the Potions classroom, about fifty minutes early. He had checked whether the cauldrons were remotely clean they were, luckily. He had even set up an extensive logbook, in which he would keep track of which ingredients were stored, and in which amount. The cupboard was well-stocked, there was enough for Draco to last through the first month of classes.

Now, he was gliding his finger over all the books on the book cases, and admired some ancient Potions encyclopaedia. Someone had made notes and had doodled here and there. Draco frowned disapprovingly.

When he heard someone come in, he placed the book back and turned around. It was Professor McGonagall. Phi slipped in after her, smiled at Draco and went to the cupboard to look at all the ingredients, with his hands behind his back like Draco had taught him in his own little laboratory at home.

“Good morning, Malfoy,” she said. Draco wondered whether she would even call him Draco, like she used to call Severus by his first name.  
“Good morning, Professor,” he greeted her back.  
“Your son came up to me this morning. Ophiuchus. He wanted to be doing something today, but didn’t know what he was allowed to do. Did you have ideas?”  
Draco gestured for her to sit down on his desk chair and stood a respectful distance away.  
“I thought, with your permission, of course, that perhaps he could attend my classes? He is very curious, and he would like listening in to all of it. He wouldn’t be making potions, naturally.”  
McGonagall nodded thoughtfully. Draco saw Phi turn around with hopeful features.  
“And what if he gets bored, or wants to go outside?”  
“That is for you to say. I wouldn’t mind if he slips in and out as he pleases, as long as he is silent and doesn’t disturb anyone. He could go around this afternoon, asking the other professors if he is allowed in their classes. If he is, perhaps he could listen in on them as well. If he isn’t, I’ll find something to keep him occupied. He’s a very easy child.”

It was silent for a moment, and Draco believed McGonagall regretted letting Phi live here.  
“That sounds good. As long as other professors know and approve, he can go to their classes as well. He is not allowed, however, to do practical exercises. No wand-waving or potion-making. Let’s get that clear.”  
Draco agreed happily. “I would never allow that myself. And the moment I hear him causing any trouble anywhere, he won’t go there again. I promise I will make sure he won’t disrupt classes.”

Apparently satisfied, McGonagall rose up and strode towards the door. Right before she went through, she turned to face Draco again.  
“He is a sweet boy. I understand that you have a lot on your mind, with a new job, and your children, but do try to get along with the other professors. It is so unprofessional if colleagues cannot co-exist.” She didn’t wait for a reply, and Draco wasn’t sure he would have been able to give one. He knew she didn’t mean the professors in general; Draco already had had some polite conversation with most of them. There was just one he hadn’t approached. Not really.

Draco sighed.  
Great start of his first day of work. And now he only had ten more minutes to make sure he himself was presentable, and his desk was cleared, before third year Slytherins and Ravenclaws would walk in.

The first students arrived a few minutes early, as he hoped everyone would. Four Slytherins girls who he vaguely recognised from the night before, and who greeted him with a polite “Good morning, professor,” and a smile. He nodded back at them.  
Phi had settled down at a small desk in the far corner, where he would be least distracting if he would be drawing or decided to go somewhere else.

The next was Aquila, with her closest friend; a reddish brown haired boy named Matias. Matias had been the first one to approach Aquila at their first day at Hogwarts. Scorpius had been welcomed warmly in Slytherin, but Aquila had been thrown in a cold bath, when she was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Slytherins would always be a bit less prejudiced against ex-Death Eaters and Malfoys, Draco mused. So, Aquila sat alone, not quite comfortable, but proud nonetheless. Matias had dropped in the seat next to her, the moment he heard he was a Ravenclaw. As it turned out, his uncle had been a Death Eater, but for the same kind of reasons Draco had: he had had no choice. Consequently, Matias never prejudiced Aquila and they had become the closest of friends. Her friendship with him, along with her open behaviour and sweet disposition, had gotten her accepted as a Ravenclaw. The fact that Matias was Muggleborn, and Aquila hadn’t turned him down not even when she had gotten more friends, and didn’t ‘need’ him anymore assured everyone that at least Aquila wasn’t half bad for a Malfoy.

Draco greeted his daughter and Matias with a subtle smile and waited for Scorpius and Albus to arrive. They were late. Just when he was about to close the door, they slipped inside and walked to their seats.

“A word with the two of you after class,” he said clearly, making sure that no one thought he would favour them. Scorpius made a face at Aquila across the room, to which she responded with an eye roll.

“Good morning. For those of you who don’t know yet, my name is Draco Malfoy. This year, I will teach you how to make more advanced potions like Shrinking Solution and Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. You will also learn how to work with new ingredients.  
This year, you might notice a boy who is not a student, sitting in this classroom. You may have seen him already this morning. His name is Ophiuchus and he is my youngest son. He may walk in and out of this room during the lessons, but I suspect he will not be any trouble. I expect all of you to ignore him and keep paying attention, even if he walks past you. Ophiuchus, you know not to attract any attention, right?” Phi nodded shyly, while some students turned around and waved at him.

“Good. Now, the first thing we will be doing, is learning some new theory…” Draco started his first lesson.

After his first classes, when lunch was served, and Draco was walking through the empty hallways towards the Great Hall, he was attacked by four children and one who was hanging back. “Guys! I am an old man, be careful with my back!” he laughed.

“You were good, papa. Really good,” Aquila smiled.  
“For the first time since I went to Hogwarts, I actually appreciated Potions,” Scorpius added.  
“I understood, papa, I understood most of what you were saying!” Phi chimed in.  
Cassie beamed up at him. “I am actually looking forward to it,” she exclaimed.

Albus locked eyes with Draco -that seemed to happen a lot- and made an agreeing sound.  
While Draco ushered his children in front of him, so they would get their own lunch, he walked next to Albus.  
“You know, you may be a Potter, but you really are a good one,” Draco said. Albus chuckled.  
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. How difficult was it for you to say you?” He seemed to get comfortable enough to become a bit cheeky.  
“Trust me, it is easier than it looks. It’s not like he had an inbred dislike for Potters. It’s just a very strong one against one specific Potter,” Scorpius interrupted. It was rather amusing to see how he and his children could joke around his Potter-phobia, while Draco was unable to actually talk to the man.

When he walked through the doors of the Great Hall, he saw Potter already sitting in the seat which would be his usual spot, apparently. Draco suppressed a sigh.  
“Well, that looks like fun. I believe I should wish you joy, this lunch,” Albus said, with a distinct challenge in his eyes. He smirked and left with Scorp, Cassie and Phi.

“Why am I always challenged by Potters?” Draco asked Aquila. She laughed heartily in response.  
“Perhaps, papa, because you are fun to challenge. And every single Potter seems to know exactly how to get under our skin. They’re dangerous for us.”  
“Very wisely spoken, Aquila. I’ll keep it in mind.” He smiled at her.  
She wished him a good lunch and walked to her friends. Draco took a breath to calm himself, before he walked up to the High Table and elegantly sat down in the seat next to Potter’s, while there were many empty ones. Thanks to Albus.

“Malfoy,” Potter greeted him. Draco greeted him back and reached for his glass of water.  
“How was your very first morning of classes?” Potter asked.  
“Very well, thank you.”  
“May I ask, what is your method of teaching? How do you teach?”

Phi jumped in Draco’s lap, kneeing his groin in the movement. Draco winced. He felt and saw that Phi was brimming with energy. This was going to be difficult.

“Like a badass!” Phi answered. Potter chuckled, but Draco tapped Phi’s shoulder.  
“Ophiuchus? I don’t believe I taught you that word. And what do I think of words that I haven’t taught you?”  
“They’re bad. Sorry, papa,” Phi murmured, properly chastised. Draco nodded to accept his apology and started eating his lunch. When he picked up his glass to drink, he was jostled by Phi, enthusiastically turning to talk to Potter. Before Draco could balance the glass, half of the contents were pouring over his clothes.

“Ophiuchus!” he berated again, softly. “Calm down, will you?”  
Phi looked down and bit his lip. “Sorry, papa.”  
“That’s the second time you’ve said sorry in under one minute.”

Phi fidgeted. “I know, I’m sorry. I mean… er…. Papa, I don’t mean to, but I’m excited. I’m sorry about your clothes. Can I do anything to help?”

“No need to help, I’ll clean them later. For now, maybe it’s better if you join your siblings. Is that all right?” Draco asked, making sure that Phi knew it wasn’t a punishment.

His son nodded, relieved to be let off the hook. He gave Draco a peck on his cheek and jogged towards Cassie. Draco shook his head softly. That boy could be a true handful.

“Where does he learn those words, then?” Potter asked him. Draco bit his tongue to stop himself from insulting the man, remembering what McGonagall told him this morning.  
“Cassiopeia, usually.”  
“Where does she get them, if not from you?”  
“Her Gryffindor friends.”  
Potter let out a disbelieving whoosh of air.  
“That’s a bit prejudiced, it seems. How can you be sure?”  
Draco shot him a look. “Because I know who she hangs out with, and I know that her Gryffindor friends say such things. Her Slytherin friends wouldn’t dare do that, because I know their parents. It had nothing to do with prejudice, Potter. Don’t follow the tunnel you call your vision.”

This got Potter silent for a moment or two. “Sorry. I guess that was rather unfair of myself.”  
“Good to know you’ve still got a sense of fairness.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Draco gnashed his teeth in suppressed frustration.  
“I don’t suppose you know how it is to live without food or clothes, do you? So many people, either Slytherins who have been cleared from trials, or ex-prisoners who have served their sentences, live on the streets with nothing to live from. Their wands have been taken when they entered Azkaban, and most of them didn’t get it back when they left, even though that’s the law. Most of them don’t have enough money to buy a new one and get a job. So really, it’s good to know that a person with influence, like you, cares for fairness in this world, but doesn’t give two shits about those people at Knockturn Alley,” Draco seethed. He kept his expression under control and refused to look at Potter while he spoke.

“And you care?”  
“Of course I bloo- Yes, I do.” Draco had to bite down his earlier sentence, because Phi was approaching again and smiled brightly.  
“Papa, I have asked the professors whether I can join their classes. There are three who don’t want me, but those courses are boring. The majority wants me to sit still and be quiet, but two professors said I could walk in and out whenever I wanted to. So everything is settled,” he told. Draco ruffled his hair Phi wasn’t in his Malfoy mood, so he wouldn’t be too vain to accept it.  
“That’s good, Phi. But this afternoon, you’ll still have to sit in my class. Tomorrow, you can visit others.”

Phi nodded, but lost track of the conversation.  
“Mr. Potter? Your friend started SPEW right, the organisation for house elves? What was her reasoning with that? Aquila was discussing it with Matias, and Matias said it was because house elves didn’t like their work, but Aquila said it was about the treatment of house elves.”

Potter started explaining all he knew about it, in a very patient and indulging manner. It was rather nice of him. He was good with children, obviously.

When Phi’s curiosity was satisfied, he thanked Potter, which resulted in an approving nod from Draco, and bounced off, back to Aquila and Matias.

“You are different when your children are around,” Potter remarks after a short silence. Draco doesn’t respond, but Potter continues. “You’re softer, gentler. And you don’t fight me the same way.”  
“Obviously. I don’t want my children to be prejudiced against you, or address you the way I would,” Draco scoffed.  
“And why not?”  
“Because you may be a pain in the ass, but it’s something between us. They don’t have anything to do with it.”

Potter was silent, and Draco chanced a look at him. He felt his anger bubble up at the innocent inquiry in Potter’s eyes.  
“You know, Malfoy, we have to work together for at least a year. We should try to get along.”  
“We do not have to work together, and if I don’t kill you before Christmas rolls around, I’m proud.”  
Draco clenched his fist again and practically felt himself fuming. He knew it wasn’t just because Potter was being Potter. It was because Draco had no idea what Potter wanted from him. It was because Potter saw how easily Draco was taken in by his children, and how much he loved them. It was because Potter made him nervous.  
And that was what made Draco so incredibly angry.

“I would be proud of you as well, if you manage not to hex me either, in the next few months,” Potter remarked.  
“Wow, thank you, Potter, for giving me your faith and admitting you would be proud. That is so much what I need to hear.” Draco wished Ophiuchus was here. Or Aquila, or anyone other than Potter. He wouldn’t even mind if the entire Gryffindor House would attack him right now, if that would divert Potter’s attention for a moment.

“Just one question. How do you think Albus and Scorpius would react when one of us hexed or jinxed the other?”

Draco snapped his head towards Potter and searched his face. “It wouldn’t matter. They’re good friends,” he answered, unsure of what Potter was hinting at.  
“And what if one of us killed the other? Wouldn’t that break them apart?”  
“Absolutely not. They would probably support each other in mourning of death and Azkaban. Their friendship won’t break. Ever.”  
“How can you be so sure?” Potter asked. His voice seemed a bit thin, like he needed reassurance that Albus and Scorpius really were friends. Draco rubbed at a spot behind his ear.

“I don’t know about you, but I actually raised my children to not come to premature conclusions. I taught them that whatever mistake I made, it had nothing to do with them, and never to assume children are exactly like their parents. I hope they treat others this way, as well as themselves.”  
When he said it, Draco realised he had revealed another vital part of himself to Potter, another vulnerability. Of course Potter would know he was talking about Lucius and himself. His right hand twitched into a fist, but he quickly –forcibly- released the muscles again.

“That’s good,” Potter said softly. “I tried to, as well. But I don’t know whether I’ve been as explicit as you have. Well, as long as they’ll be friends, I’m glad. Excuse me, I’m off to my classroom. Some students left the class in a right mess, with some misdirected spells.” Potter chuckled and waved a hand as a goodbye. Draco ignored him completely.

When he went back to the dungeons, he made sure to actually look at all the renovations, to distract himself from how stupid and impulsive he was around Potter.  
The dungeons were done very well. They still held their threatening darkness, but it was less ‘evil’. The hallways were covered in forest green tapestries, which depicted scenes from the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Luckily, they hadn’t chosen the Tale of the Three Brothers.  
There were also new torches. They weren’t as grimy as the old ones, but rather elegant, with curling ends. The fire seemed to be licking the tapestries, which gave them a beautiful and powerful glow. The walls that weren’t covered with a tapestry were repainted; less dark, and more glinting silvery iron-like. It was marvellous.

The Potions classroom had been redone as well. There were windows now, through which sunlight was streaming in. It made the cauldrons shine and look cleaner than they were. The cauldrons had gotten new shelves in the back of the room. The work spaces were bigger, and Draco’s desk was made of a dark mahogany. Everything was handsomely decorated in a distinct Slytherin aesthetic, without being threatening or unlikeable by other Houses. Draco was quite taken with the new decorations. He would have to look around in the Slytherin common room to see if that had been decorated as well. And he would have to say hi to the mermaids.

While Draco was pondering, he didn’t notice someone stepping into his classroom and sitting down at a far bench. When Draco heard a small cough, he startled and narrowed his eyes at the intruder, until he saw who it was. That just made him very uncomfortable.

“Hello, Longbottom,” Draco said. It was better to greet him first, to gain the upper hand by radiating ease and confidence.  
Neville Longbottom nodded. “Hi. I, ehm, I am here for research. I work in Sprout’s greenhouses to collect data. When she retires, which will probably be next year, I will take her place.” He cleared his throat. “How about you?”

Draco pursed his lips in discomfort.  
“As you see, I am Potions Master and Slytherin Head of House. You’ve probably met my children, at least the eldest three. I think you’ll meet my youngest son enough, if he decides to visit the greenhouses. But you might not recognise him.”  
Longbottom merely smiled. “I’ve seen him. Quite the character, I’d say. He asked whether he could join in on the Herbology lessons. Sprout didn’t want him, but I said I could take him out and tell him some interesting things. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he hastened to add.

Draco suppressed his laughter, but did allow the corners of his mouth twitch up. He leaned backwards in his seat, somewhat more relaxed.  
“Yes, yes, that’s fine. He would love that, I’m sure. If he causes any trouble, let me know. He can be rather… cheeky, to say the least.”

This elicited a loud cackle from Longbottom. “Absolutely.”  
He was silent and seemed to hesitate to say something. Draco suspected it was about their schooldays. He took a deep breath and started talking.  
“Listen, Longbottom. I… I would like to apologise. I wasn’t very pleasant to you, I know. No, let me speak. There isn’t an excuse for it. I do have explanations, but they aren’t enough. Just… know that I’m trying to make it right, okay? And, ehm, my children aren’t anything like me. So, even if they are cheeky, or rude, or annoying, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t… you know… treat them like I would be treated. They’re just children. Please.” Draco resisted his urge to fidget and put his hands on the table, half open and easy to see. He made sure that his body language was proud, but lacking arrogance.

“Malfoy, I wouldn’t dare to treat your children any differently than others. They’re lovely, they really are. Cassie sometimes helps me in the greenhouses, did you know that? She knows how to treat some very difficult plants, which makes her a great partner in gathering my results. And by the way, you can call me Neville. If you’d like. I’m all for putting the past behind us.”

Draco looked him in the eye. He nodded slowly. A wide grin stole over his face. “Magnificent. You’re still not allowed to call me Draco, though,” he joked. Neville snorted.  
“Slytherins and their weird ideas of fairness… I don’t suppose I will ever understand. Draco,” he teased.

They kept talking, until the first students filed in for their class. When Neville closed the door behind him, there was an appointment for that afternoon in Draco’s calendar which hadn’t been there before.


	4. First Stand-up Against Inhumanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this chapter isn't as good as I hoped it would be.
> 
> Please tell me what you think about it and let me know if you have any tips!
> 
> Xoxo

Neville and Draco met in the Great Hall, not quite sure where they would go. Neville eventually suggested they went to the Great Lake. They didn’t talk much, and if they spoke, it was easy and light-hearted chatter. Neither one wanted to talk about the heavy things in this early stadium of their friendship –at the moment, it was still more like a truce than a friendship.

It had been fun, though. Neville was smart and funny, and he got very passionate about his plants, which Draco could appreciate. It also turned out that Cassie spent an enormous amount of her time in the greenhouses to help Neville or Professor Sprout. She didn’t particularly like Herbology, as Neville told Draco, and as Draco already knew, but she did like the peaceful quiet and easy tasks of watering plants and repotting them.

“She is very keen on her private time,” Draco agreed. “At home, she would disappear for hours in the rooms upstairs, where no one ever comes. She just sits there, doing nothing. She’s in her own head then. I think that’s why she enjoys the greenhouses so much.”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. When she first came in, she didn’t know I was there. She crawled under branches of this massive plant, like she did it all the time. Which, I think, she does. The plant also didn’t reject her.” When Neville saw Draco’s puzzled face, he explained: “It’s a cutting from the Whomping Willow, only less violent. She must have had a good word with it, to be allowed under.”

Draco chuckled, and Neville joined him.  
“Trust her to fight with a plant, honestly. She would do anything to get what she wanted. But I was wondering, what does your research consist from, really?”

Neville’s face brightened. “Oh, it’s nothing much. It’s inspired by a Muggle experiment, where plants are given different amounts of daylight, and their productivity is measured. I give magical plants different surroundings, different amounts of magic in their vicinity, and measure their productivity. It’s odd that this kind of research has never been done before. Many plants have already shown greater productivity, when the amount of magic is correctly adapted. Take Devil’s Snare, for example. It is much less susceptible to sunlight, when they are raised with only half of the natural amount of magic around Hogwarts.”

Draco felt himself getting more and more interested.  
“How do you control the amount of magic, then?” he asked.  
“Oh, that’s easy. You know, in St. Mungo’s, there’s a floor with children who have problems with their accidental magic, and to protect them, the Healers have created magic vacuums. It’s like living in a Muggle neighbourhood, far away from everything magic. Together with some Curse Breakers, friends of my wife who have always been interested in creating new spells, we were able to adapt the vacuums in such a way, that we can control the amount of magic it lets through. It’s easily done, with just a simple spell.”

“That’s incredible,” Draco breathed. “And how does the increased productivity influence their activity in potions they’re used in?”  
“I don’t know, we haven’t tested that yet. But I think it makes the plants stronger, and therefore, one needs less of the plant to have a working potion.”

Draco thought about it for a moment. He watched the waves of the lake breaking on the shore, but found he couldn’t concentrate well enough. When he closed his eyes, he thought how surreal –but nice- it was that he trusted Neville so quickly.

“I think it depends on the plants…” he murmured then, thoughtfully. “But there is a slight possibility –and I’m not completely sure about it, but there’s a chance that it might mean one needs less ingredients at all. Many ingredients in potions are just to enhance magical abilities. But those enhancers are very often illicit, either to produce, to deal or to use. If one doesn’t need the enhancers, many potions will become legal.”

Neville looked at him, with a clear question in his eyes. Draco looked back. “If you wanted me to…” he started. Neville began to smile. “… I could test out some theories. But I would need help of your Curse Breaker-friends. There’s a spell that needs to be adapted and changed.”

It was already dark, and dinner was long past, when Draco and Neville went back inside. Neville was able to get some food and they ate together. The most shocking thing of the day was that Neville actually slapped Draco on the shoulder, when they parted. Draco considered this for a moment, before he went his own way to the dungeons.

There, his peaceful state was rudely interrupted by a crying Slytherin first-year. Cassie had ushered her to a corner of the common room, and was softly talking to her. Draco frowned and looked around to see whether he could find some sign of what happened. He only saw dripping wet clothes and drops of water falling from the victim’s hair. 

“Some Ravenclaws wanted to ‘introduce’ her to what Slytherins deserve, as they said to her when they levitated toilet water over her head,” he heard Albus say behind him. Albus had a grim look on his face and was clearly agitated about it.

“What’s her name again? Lucia, right?” Albus nodded.  
“Does she have brothers or sisters here? I don’t know her last name.” Albus shook his head now.  
“No siblings. She’s half-blood and the only witch in her family, apart from her father.”  
“Would she appreciate it, if I went to talk to her?”

Albus hesitated, swallowed and looked down.  
“Her grandparents died at the hand of B-Bellatrix, Mr. Malfoy. Her father’s devastated about it. It was hard for her to accept being a Slytherin.”  
Draco understood his underlying message.  
“In that case… Make sure she’s alright, yes? I’ll be right back.”

He saw Albus walk to Scorpius and whisper something, which caused Scorp to go to Cassie and the girl, Lucia, and wrap an arm around her. Then, Draco stepped out of the portrait and moved to the Ravenclaw Tower.

Because he was a professor, he was let in easily. The Ravenclaw common room was beautiful, with pretty blue colours and a friendly atmosphere. The students looked at him in surprise, some with a scowl and others with a smile. “Where is Aquila?” he asked one student who looked nice enough. The girl stood up and moved to the stairs towards the dormitories.

“’Quila! Come down here, will you?” she called. Sure steps were heard, and Aquila came down, followed by Matias.

“Papa! How are you?” she asked, smiling brightly.  
“Let’s go out for a moment, shall we?” he asked her in soft tones. Aquila frowned, but followed him nonetheless.

“Anything wrong, papa?” she whispered.  
Draco nodded. “It turns out that some Ravenclaws just bullied a first-year Slytherin. I know this isn’t much informa – “  
“That should be Terence and Priscus, third-years. They hate Slytherins, but aren’t strong enough to bully anyone other than first-years. They’re in their dorm. I can get them for you? Or I could give you passageway to go to their dorms yourself. They really need someone calling them out. You’re the first professor who has ever found out about it.”

Draco let out a surprised chuckle. “Well, not because the victim wanted me to know, that’s for sure. It’d be fine if you let me up to their dorms. Are they warned, do you think?”

Aquila thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. I guess most of them think you just wanted to talk to me. I might have told people we agreed to meet each other every day, just in case you ever surprised me by visiting. For this kind of reasons, of course.” She seemed a bit ashamed by her little white lie.

“You are amazing, love. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Draco kissed her on her crown, and she smiled.  
“Go up the stairs. It’s the third dorm on your left. Their door is usually open, and there’s a blue lining at the top of it.”

The portrait asked one of his riddles and Aquila answered it easily. She ushered Draco to the stairs, and ignored everyone who was looking at her funnily.

When Draco found the dorm in which Terence and Priscus should be, he knocked politely. The moment he stepped foot in the room, both boys’ eyes widened.

“Good afternoon, boys. Let’s have a talk,” Draco said, letting his voice drop to a dangerous undertone and locking the door behind him.  
“What exactly were you thinking? Was it stupidity or did you want me to make Professor McGonagall expel you? Hm?”

He looked at the boys, who were trying to conceal their nervousness and glaring at the same time. “First of all, I would like you to know that Slytherins stick together. You hurt one, and the rest of us will hunt you down. Second of all, the child hadn’t done anything wrong. Third of all, do not ever challenge me.”

“Lucia is a Slytherin. And we all know what Slytherins are like,” one of them spat.  
“Do you want me to tell you about some Ravenclaws I know, who killed many Muggleborns?” Draco asked icily.  
“Yeah, no surprise that you know exactly which ones were bad,” the other scowled.  
“Are we going to the part where I punish you directly, or are you going to insult me and make it worse, first?”  
“Try us,” the second spat. Draco suspected this was Priscus –a pure-blood wizard whose family was known as strong and quite brave.

Draco calmly stood up and opened the door. He easily charmed the two boys up in the air, and made them float in front of him, while he walked down the stairs and through the common room.  
“I’ll bring them back shortly. First, we’ll have to find your Head of House and Head Mistress McGonagall. Have a pleasant evening,” he said to the students. Some of them snickered.  
“Be polite, wave goodbye!” Draco told Terence and Priscus. With another wave of his wand, he made them both wave while they exited the common room. Draco was pleased to hear a roar of laughter when the portrait fell shut.

Without stalling, he moved to McGonagall’s office, sure that she would call the Ravenclaw Head of House. When he got in, he dropped both students in two uncomfortable seats in front of a desk and pulled up a sofa for himself. 

“Professor Malfoy? What are you doing here, with Ravenclaw students in tow?” Draco heard McGonagall say, before she appeared in his vision.

“They are bullies. Maybe you should call Professor Flitwick.”  
The door opened, and that exact professor stood in the door opening. “I got a message from a student,” he shrugged.

“Good,” Draco nodded, having an idea of who that student might be. “You know them, Terence and Priscus. Today, I walked into the Slytherin common room and found a student crying. Lucia Lilacia. As it turns out, these boys lured her into one of the bathrooms and thrown toilet water all over her. Her clothes and books are soaked and smell. When I went to the Ravenclaw Tower to ask them about it, I heard from their Housemates that they do this regularly. To be precise, they have done this ever since they started to attend Hogwarts, and only to Slytherin first-years. I thought it might be time to stop this nonsense.”

McGonagall had gotten a pinched expression and Flitwick looked like he was about to explode.  
“That is impossible. I would have heard about it before, if that was true!” he exclaimed. McGonagall shushed him.

“Terence, can you tell us whether it is true?” she asked nicely. Terence, and Priscus, kept their mouth shut. Draco saw they were morphing their faces into something akin to innocence. He also saw that McGonagall was about to let them go.

“Priscus, why don’t you tell them what you told me?” Draco asked the student, while he stood up and went to stand next to Priscus’ chair. The boy merely scowled at him.  
“No? You don’t remember?” He saw Priscus’ nose twitch up in disgust. Bingo. Slytherin pride wasn’t the only pride at Hogwarts.  
“That’s too bad. Aren’t you curious to know what Professor Flitwick would think of it?” Priscus now narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He was catching on to what Draco was doing. 

He had to let his Slytherin beast out, then.

Draco circled the chair so he was standing behind it and thought about how he would make Aquila admit something. He leaned on the back of the chair and said softly in Priscus’ ear: “I think Professor Flitwick wouldn’t exactly mind, but perhaps the Head Mistress would get angry. Don’t you think it would be about a week detention’s worth?”

“Malfoy,” McGonagall berated him softly. Draco ignored her pointedly and clenched his fist at Terence’s obvious smirk.

“You must be happy to know that none of your Housemates cared that you were caught out. I guess they don’t care about you at all, do they?” Draco asked now, voice thick with anger.

“That’s bullshit! Of course they care!” Terence snapped. Priscus swivelled his head around to send his friend a warning gaze, but it was too late.

“Just because your daughter ratted us out, doesn’t mean every Ravenclaw would. Indeed, it’s probably because she’s a filthy Slytherin inside! She should have had the same treatment as those other disgusting first-years. They have to learn to keep their head down!”

Draco stood up straight and tilted his chin up.  
“I present to you, Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, exhibit A: a confession. Do you need more proof, or do you accept I was right?”

There was a challenge in his tone, a dare for McGonagall to ever underestimate him again. He wasn’t the stuck-up, arrogant boy he used to be. He was an adult now, and he would like to be treated as such. Better still, he would like to be treated and trusted as a Professor and Potions Master.

McGonagall nodded. “We believe you. A month’s detention for the both of you, and 50 point off for Ravenclaw. For each. And if anything happens to a Slytherin in the next month, it will be you who will be blamed.  
Professor Flitwick, if you’d like to escort those young men to their dorms. Professor Malfoy, I would like a word with you.”

Draco stayed were he stood, while the boys –scowling and glaring- were herded away by a furious Flitwick.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Malfoy,” McGonagall offered.  
“I’d rather not.”  
McGonagall leaned back slightly in her chair and sized him up. She knew he was playing a power game.  
“Very well. Would you like a biscuit?”  
“No.”

“I will get straight to the point then. You have rather unorthodox methods, Malfoy.”  
“I have unorthodox methods when I know that the regular ones don’t work.”  
“And how do you know?”  
“Because they have been harassing and bullying Slytherin students for three years, and they have never been caught!” Draco heard himself sneer. He quickly ruled himself in when he saw McGonagall’s face.  
“They have received their fair punishment now. Don’t you think that’s enough?”  
Draco kept silent, wallowing in his anger.  
“Unless you think their punishment isn’t strict enough,” McGonagall questioned, rather than stated.

Draco couldn’t bite his tongue anymore.  
“How is a month’s detention strict enough for students who have bullied half of Slytherin House? Really, I don’t see it. They should be expelled!”  
“Expelled? Malfoy, don’t you see? You were never expelled, and you got in a weekly fight with another student. Now, I know those were different times, but the principle is the same. If you weren’t expelled for everything you did, you can’t expect me to expel Terence and Priscus.”

“That’s your excuse? What about because those were different times, you should be stricter now. Weren’t you the one who fought for House Unity? Weren’t you the one who tried to do everything to stop prejudice, either against pure-bloods or muggles? And look at you now! Now you are the one who has the power to stop bullying and prejudice, and you don’t. Now you are the one who refuses to expel two students who have scarred other students!” Draco exploded. He walked up to the desk and placed his hands on the wood, looming over McGonagall.

“You know what I think about right now? I think about how many students they have bullied, hurt and abused. I wonder what percentage of Slytherin House feels like they can’t trust anyone else but Slytherins, because they were drowned in toilet water by students from another House. I want to know how many are mentally scarred, because other students wished them dead, and threatened them, all because of something a stupid hat said.  
I wonder how many students have been pushed, shoved, kicked, punched, drowned, thrown against walls, made unable to do their homework, lost points for being out of bed after curfew because they were afraid to come out of the toilet stalls they were hiding in. Don’t you want to know that? Do you want me to take a poll in the Slytherin common room? Because I will. I dearly want to know,” he hissed, dangerous and raging inside.

“And believe me when I say, Professor McGonagall, that I will inquire everywhere I go to what they’ve done. I will ask everyone I see to find out how guilty they actually are. And I am not afraid to dig up the dirtiest, filthiest secrets about them, if that would ensure their expulsion.”

Draco stood up straight and sent McGonagall his haughtiest and most threatening glare. Not because he thought it would scare her off, but because he wanted her to know that the slithering Malfoy snake was still inside him, and would still make an appearance when necessary.

“Good night,” he glowered at her, when closing the door.  
On his way downstairs, he saw Potter waiting to go up. He tried to ignore the man, but that was difficult, seeing as Potter had caught his wrist and was searching his gaze.

“Are you alright, Malfoy?” he asked.  
Draco tugged his arm free, looked at him murderously and walked away. He just couldn’t handle Potter right now.

Potter watched as Draco marched away, back to the dungeons. When he entered McGonagall’s office himself, he saw her slumped back in her seat, thinking hard.

“Why was Malfoy in such a hurry to get away from here?” he asked. Professor McGonagall sighed.  
“He got angry.”

“Yes, I heard that much. What about? Terence and Priscus?”  
“How do you know that?”  
“I heard a girl cry, Lucy or Lucia or something. To be honest, I was just on my way to you, with my suspicions about those two, when I heard her cry and decided to put my foot to get them properly punished. But why was Malfoy so angry, exactly?”

“He thinks my punishment isn’t enough for them,” McGonagall stated. At Potter’s questioning frown, she added: “A month’s detention with me and some points.”

Potter’s frown deepened. “Why don’t you expel them?” he wondered.  
“Not you too! Malfoy was adamant that I would expel them, please don’t you start as well.”  
“You refused expulsion? Why?” Potter asked in an annoyed tone. He was quite surprised at Malfoy. He hadn’t expected him to respond so violently.

“Harry, you were never expelled either. So it’s not fair to expel them for this kind of bullying. It doesn’t add up.”

Potter pursed his lips. “So you believe that getting into a fist fight with the same person every week –a person who was strong enough to defend himself- is worse than harassing every single Slytherin first-year that walks alone? I’m sorry, but I don’t see how you can think that. Terence and Priscus should be expelled, and, if possible, humiliated as well. They don’t deserve a good soft detention.”

McGonagall squinted her eyes and sized him up. “What do you mean, Harry?”

“As far as I know, they’ve bullied every first-year Slytherin they could get. Albus was kicked until he was taken to the Hospital Wing with a concussion. However, the moment he was alone, he slipped back to the dungeons. It’s a Slytherin thing, I believe. No matter how badly they were hurt, they make sure to keep doing all their homework, keep learning for tests, keep their head held high. Other Slytherins help them with Concealing Charms to hide the bruises. Everything to show Terence and Priscus that they can’t get the Slytherins to break.”

McGonagall looked at him with an open mouth. “How was Albus after that?”

“He never told me. He told James however, and he can’t keep a secret from me.  
When James knew about it, he wanted to fight the Ravenclaws, but ended up with a few broken knuckles and a black eye. His friends had saved him from a worse fate, I think. Then Scorpius stood up for Albus. What they did to Scorp was horrible.” Potter bit his lip and lowered his tone. “They grabbed a sharp quill, or something like that, and drew a Dark Mark on his forearm. There’s still a scar.”

He heard her gasp and saw her eyes grow wide from shock.  
“They didn’t.”

“They did. I don’t even want to know what they have done to Cassiopeia, and Merlin knows I don’t want to stand and watch to see them do anything to Ophiuchus. Those children are innocent, completely innocent. And to think that probably half of Slytherin House has been hurt by them, one way or another! Do you really want to let Priscus get away with a few points taken and a few days of detention?”

“You’re quite determined in this, aren’t you?”  
“Yes, I am. With all due respect, I want you to expel them. I don’t want to see their faces in class, because I don’t know what I’ll do.”

McGonagall sighed. “I’ll think about it, Harry.”

Potter turned around and moved to the door.  
“When you tell them about their expulsion, don’t tell anyone I’ve wanted this. It’s all Malfoy,” he warned. McGonagall responded with another promise to think about it.

The next morning, McGonagall had a few visitors in her office.

“I am sorry to call you here at this early hour, Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein, Mr. Belby. I’m afraid I have to tell you about your children, Terence and Priscus.”

The two Ravenclaw boys sat in chairs at the desk. Their parents sat next to them, on comfortable sofas. Priscus scowled and Terence held his back straight. They both seemed so sure in their case, McGonagall mused.

“To put it bluntly, your children have showed inexcusable behaviour. Ever since they attended Hogwarts, they have bullied first-years and used violence on them. Magical as well as fists. For this, I have decided to expel them. I apologise for your inconvenience of bringing them to Hogwarts and having to pick them up just two days in.”

“Merlin! Why didn’t we hear about this before?” Mrs. Goldstein asked.  
“I didn’t know before yesterday evening. If I had known before, say, in their first year, I would have called you here for a warning and a good talk. But I fear that their behaviour has crossed a line. I cannot do anything except expel them. Nothing else comes close to a fair punishment. They ought to appreciate the fact that I refuse to lay charges on them.”

Mr. Belby frowned. “Charges? Expulsion? How bad was it? What have they done?”

McGonagall looked at Priscus. “I reckon they won’t tell you themselves, so I will. As I said, they have bullied first-years, but their only victims were Slytherins. They have abused them and hexed many into Madam Pomfrey’s care. They even carved some students’ arms with sharp materials, so that it bled and scarred. As you see, it is something I can and will not allow in my school.”

One of the parents snorted.  
“Don’t you think those Slytherins deserved exactly this treatment?” Mr. Goldstein scoffed. “I’m quite proud of my son. Don’t get me wrong, I will take him away, but only because I refuse to let him stay at this school. How dare you put a Death Eater in front of vulnerable students? Make him Head of House? Don’t you remember what he has done? Don’t you know he killed Professor Dumbledore? Come on, Terence. You won’t have to stay here any longer. Everyone apparently has turned mad.”

McGonagall slowly rose from her seat, while the Goldstein family was moving towards the door, all of them with angry yet smug expressions.  
“I am glad you decide to take your son away, Anthony. Because I find I am not interested in inviting anyone with those opinions in Hogwarts, ever again. No more segregation. Goodbye. Do not forget to never return,” she said, with all her proud Scottish R’s. Mr. Goldstein sent her one scorching glare, before he slipped away, secretly still afraid of his former professor.

Priscus and his father had been silently watching, but now Mr. Belby pulled Priscus up on his collar and made to walk away as well.  
“You are very right, Professor McGonagall. Trust me to give Priscus a good talking to at home. I must say, I am appalled. He will know just what the consequences are of something like this. But tell me, did he actually scar another student?”

McGonagall nodded. “In a most distasteful manner. I won’t specify who or what, but know that it is sickening.”

Mr. Belby seemed to understand that it had something to do with the Malfoys. His expression darkened and he pulled Priscus closer to himself, with just a bit more force than necessary.  
“Good day, Professor. I will owl you sometime. Please extend my apologies to Malfoy and all victims.” With these words, he walked away as well, not releasing his deathly grip on his son’s collar.

McGonagall smiled to herself. At least one of those boys would be taught something today.


	5. Second Stand-up Against Injustice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your criticism and opinions :D

The next day, Draco and the other professors were called to McGonagall’s office, before breakfast. There, they got to hear that two students were expelled, and would not return to Hogwarts. Draco barely stopped smiling on his way to the Great Hall and throughout breakfast.

“Congratulations, Malfoy,” Potter said, while dropping into the seat next to Draco.  
“How do you know it was me? Stalking, again?” Draco merely answered, not looking up. Potter sighs.

“I know what they used to do. To Slytherins. Who else but you would have stood up against McGonagall?”  
“Oh, I don’t know, every single professor with a brain? Not that you would understand, given your own brainless head.”  
“Malfoy, I’m complimenting you here. You know just as well as I do that no one knew about it. It had to be you.”

Draco was silent. He was thinking about what he could answer, when something occurred to him.  
“How do you know what they used to do?” he asked, already knowing the answer and dreading it. The look on Potter’s face said enough.  
“Albus,” Draco breathed before Potter could say anything. “What about Scorpius? Cassie? Has Albus told you anything about them?”

Potter looked at his plate and bit his lip in hesitation. “I don’t know whether I’m supposed to say. It was some kind of a secret. Albus told James, who told me.”  
“Potter, just tell me.”  
“I don’t know about Cassiopeia, really. Scorpius stood up for Albus, when Albie had gotten into the Hospital Wing, and then Scorpius became their next victim. If you want to know what they’ve done to him…” Potter broke off and hesitated some more. While catching Draco’s eye, he shows the most sincere and regretful face, and said:

“You should ask to see his arm.”

Draco’s mouth dropped open in horror, his breath became a bit laboured.  
“No.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Malfoy. Perhaps I’ve said too much, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t  you looked so expectant and anxious, I had to say it. I’m so sorry,” Potter exclaims, rambling and frowning in concern. Draco wasn’t listening. He stood up and moved to his classroom in a daze. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. The heavy wood of his desk felt cool against his forehead while he softly banged on it.

This couldn’t be true. How on earth did Scorpius manage? What else happened to him? Why didn’t Pomfrey notice she had a lot of Slytherin patients?

Scorpius had a Dark Mark on his forearm. How clear was it, how recognisable? How deep did the wound go? How much had he hurt? And Cassie? Had Terence and Priscus known about her bad arm, had she been severely hurt?

He was a bad father. His children hadn’t want to tell him they were hurt. His children didn’t trust him. And on top of that, they were hurt because of what he had done when he was younger. He was a worse father than his father had been, because had Lucius at least had an ideology to fight for. Draco was nothing. He had made mistakes and couldn’t make up for them. He couldn’t protect his children.

Draco banged his head against his desk again, this time rather hard.

“That can’t be healthy,” someone remarked dryly.  
Draco lifted his head with a sigh, and let out another sigh when he saw Albus.  
“Bad morning?” Albus asked politely. Draco nodded, while Albus added: “Even with Terence and Priscus gone?”

“Albus, can you  could you perhaps tell me what happened to Scorp? And tell me what you know about Cassiopeia?”

Albus bit his lip. He seemed reluctant, but sat down at a desk on the front row, ready to talk.  
“It wasn’t that bad for me. Some pushing and shoving, a couple of bruises. I was assigned to the Hospital Wing, because they said I had a concussion. When Pomfrey left to get some potions, I fled back to my dorms. Scorpius was waiting for me. He was angry. He dragged me to James, and made me tell him. James fought Terence and Priscus then, but had to stop because there was a teacher coming. A few days later, Scorpius got into the Ravenclaw Tower and challenged Terence and Priscus to a duel. He lost his wand early on, and Terence grabbed him, while Priscus used some spell that carved everything his wand touched.”

Albus didn’t want to continue now, and Draco saw that. “They drew the Dark Mark,” Draco whispered. Albus merely nodded, avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the buttons on his robes.

“Thank you. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about, that you came here?” Draco then said, drawing himself up and trying to regain some of his calm.  
“I just came down here because I thought you should know about Scorpius, since I know you were the one to get them expelled. And as far as I know, they never got to Cassie. Scorpius made sure he got her hits, and they never laid a finger on her.”

This brought a slight smile on Draco’s face. Albus smiled as well, moving towards the door. Right before he closed it, though, Draco called him back. He knew why McGonagall had done what Draco had suggested and why she had expelled the boys. A proper response was in order.

“Albus… Would you  would you thank your father for me?”  
Albus frowned, but nodded. “For what, if I may ask?”  
“He’ll know. And don’t tell anyone about this!”

Albus snickered. “Sure, Mr. Malfoy. I’ll see you later.” Draco waved him away, trying to get his dignity together for the next string of classes. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his students being terribly bullied anymore. For the time being.

The rest of the day was easy. Classes passed, students greeted him, his children smiled at him. Ophiuchus moved in and out of his classroom at will, and every time he left, he obediently told Draco to which teacher he was going. As he said, the day was easy.

Dinner was fine as well. Potter talked incessantly, laughed at his own jokes and leaned over Draco to have a long conversation with Professor Sprout. Draco was able to keep his irritation down and even managed a civil conversation with Potter.

After dinner, he met up with Neville and they hung out in the greenhouses. Cassie was watering the plants and softly talking to them, and she ignored her father. Draco smiled at this; it meant she was truly comfortable there and that she felt good.

When Cassie had gone to bed and Neville had closed off the greenhouses, Draco went to his room, where he put Phi to bed and read him a bedtime story. After their sleep ritual, Draco poured himself a cup of tea and sat down to read the Daily Prophet. He hadn’t been able to read it this morning, since he had had to go to McGonagall’s office for her message about the Ravenclaw boys. Draco grinned. All in all, he was quite proud of establishing their expulsion, even if it was with Potter’s help. It was a step in the right direction for Draco. It also showed his good intentions, that he had the same opinion as Potter in this matter.

It had been a good day, if one would just skip his little breakdown about Scorpius’ Mark.

It was almost one o’clock when Draco heard a rushed knock on his door. He thought it was Cassie, who had a history of really bad nightmares. When he opened the door, however, he was in for something rather unexpected.

“Potter?” Draco found himself asking, surprised and, frankly, intrigued by the hunted look on Potter’s face. “You look terrible. Have you been drinking?”

No answer. “What are you doing here?” Draco asked instead.  
A guilty look in Potter’s eyes. “I just… I really need to talk to someone.”

Draco frowned in confusion. “Talking isn’t really a night-time thing.”

Potter blinked. Only now, Draco saw how his eyes were flicking here and there, like he didn’t trust anything. His hair looked worse than ever and his fists were clenched tightly.

After years with Cassie, and with himself, if he was to be honest, Draco recognised the look of a nightmare-awoken man out of everything. He couldn’t let Potter fend for himself.

So, being the good human being he is, Draco opened the door further in invitation and walked to the kitchenette to pour him a glass of water. Potter silently followed him in and went to sit at the sofa.

“Drink up,” Draco ordered, handing Potter his glass. Potter eyed it suspiciously and then gazed at Draco.  
“You need to hydrate after a nightmare. It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Draco asked, while casting a Silencing charm around them, so Phi wouldn’t wake up.

Potter gulped his water down in one go, before opening his mouth to answer. What came out was a croak that sounded like an affirmation. He was dressed in red pyjamas and a pair of soft slippers in the shape of a black dog. Draco suppressed his wince at the poor taste.

“Why did you come to me?” Draco asked, gently, not wanting to let Potter think he was unwelcome.  
“Where else could I go? Do you really see me walking to McGonagall’s bedroom and crying to her?” Potter’s voice was still croaky and rough, and he still looked like he was in the middle of his nightmare.

“You could have gone to Neville, perhaps,” was what Draco answered.  
“He lives in Hogsmeade. With a wife. And he never had nightmares,” Potter added as an afterthought.  
Draco took this into consideration. “Fair enough. What makes you think I’ve had nightmares, though?”

It resulted in an eye roll and a glare from Potter. “I used to have a mind-link with Voldemort. I saw what he saw. It’s rather difficult not to get nightmares from that. So yeah, I’m quite sure you’ve had your fair share as well.”

Draco huffed and stood up. “If you put it that way. Would you like something to drink? To get you started?”  
“Get me started? On what?”  
“Telling me your nightmare. Which you should, otherwise it’ll become worse and worse and you’ll have no one to talk to.”  
“Oh. No, thank you.” Potter looked highly uncomfortable, and Draco had a feeling it wasn’t about telling his nightmares to his (former?) nemesis. Pursing his lips in thought, Draco decided that a little illegal activity on his criminal record wouldn’t hurt. Casting a silent Legilimens, he noticed how unprotected Potter actually was, when someone didn’t care about laws and all such nonsense. Draco deliberately didn’t probe around in Potter’s head, but searched for one particular thing. The moment he found that, he walked to his kitchenette again, slightly grinning.

The bastard wanted a strong drink, but was afraid to impose. Typical Gryffindor, or typical Potter?

In the kitchenette, Draco pulled out his good bottle of Firewhiskey and prepared it like he now knew Potter wanted it; on the rocks. Having poured a neat one for himself, he proffered the drink to Potter, who was now solemnly looking at the newspaper on Draco’s coffee table.

“Thank you,” Potter mumbled. “And ehm, no problem, I guess?”

It took Draco a while before he understood. The thanks he sent Potter’s way this morning, via Albus. “Please don’t talk about it. It was humiliating enough to have to thank you with actual words.”  
Potter laughed softly. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be silent. I just want to say that it was mostly your doing. They weren’t expelled, just because I said so.”

“Really? It sure seemed like that. You know, since McGonagall flat out refused expulsion to me, but after you met up with her, they were magically expelled. No pun intended, by the way.” Draco accompanied his words with a half-hearted sneer.

“I think your one-sided shouting match kind of made her doubt her former decision. My one-sided shouting match may have helped a bit. But it was teamwork. Like Beaters, you know.”

“You had a one-sided shouting match as well?”  
“I couldn’t let them walk freely with a month’s detention, especially after I heard I wasn’t the only one who wanted them gone. It made me feel like I wasn’t overreacting. Felt good.”

Draco nodded. They sat in silence for a while, in which Potter slurped down his Firewhiskey and Draco took careful sips.

“You ready to talk about it, now?” he asked after twenty minutes, according to the old clock on his wall.  
Potter sank back in the cushions and took another gulp from his drink. “If you bring me another one, I will.” Draco raised an eyebrow and Summoned the bottle without looking away from Potter. He quickly filled their glasses, and even remembered to get the ice cubes for his guest.

“Thanks. If you really want to know, I have nightmares quite regularly. And they aren’t pretty. So you can back out now. Once I’ve started, I won’t stop.”  
Draco let one of the corners of his mouth quirk up. It was too late to keep his mask in place. “Why don’t you try me,” he suggested brightly.

“They’re always about the same things. The war, the people who’ve died, the blood that’s spilled. There isn’t much variation. But I guess that’s for the best, otherwise I’d really have some horrible nights. Tonight was bad enough. I think it’s because I’m back at Hogwarts, you know. All the sights and views that come back. There are places where I refuse to go, because I already know I won’t be able to stand it. I don’t even know why I’m here, in your room. I thought the dungeons would be one place where I couldn’t go. But I woke up, and without really realising it, I was knocking on your door. Sorry for that, by the way.”

“You aren’t talking about your nightmare, Potter,” Draco reminded him. Potter noticed he had a warmth to his voice that he had never heard there before, not even when Draco was talking to his children.

“I know. I’m sorry. The pictures just come back, you know. It’s difficult.” Potter took a deep breath, before continuing. “I saw Remus and Tonks. Dead, of course. Lying next to each other like they had after they died, so close, yet not touching. I feel so bad, Malfoy. Teddy’s my godson, but sometimes I just can’t look at him. I see Tonks, when Teddy’s hair morphs, or Remus when Teddy laughs or studies his books. It’s terrible. I can’t bear it. They are all dead because of me, because I was so stupid to wait with going to Voldemort. No one had to die, you know. They all died for me.”

Draco swallowed. With any other person, he’d know exactly what to do: hold them, rock them, murmur soft nothings in their hair, while they either broke out in sobs, or clenched his shirt, trying to keep themselves in check, or –which happened quite often- start hitting and kicking him out of anger. But with Potter… he had no clue. It wasn’t just their petty school rivalry, it was more. Potter got under his skin like the annoying insect he was, but whenever he wasn’t trying to get in Draco’s hair, he was unsettling. It made Draco want to twitch and squirm, because he just didn’t understand the man.

“Potter, listen to me. You don’t want to hear this, and you won’t believe me, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” Draco had decided for the only other option he had. Play it hard, but clear.  
“It isn’t your fault. It isn’t your responsibility. I know that somehow letting go is difficult for you, but try. They didn’t die for you. None of them did.”

Draco let this sink into Potter’s brain. When he saw his face twist into something confused and disagreeing, Draco knew he could continue.

“They died for their beliefs, for their principles. Your godfather died, because he believed that his family was wrong, and he wanted to be different. Professor Lupin died, because he refused to let some furry problem control his life, and he wanted to do good, instead of being a murderous beast. Nymphadora Tonks died, because she knew it was the right thing to do, and she wanted a better world for her child. The Head Master died, because he knew it was the only thing he could do, to make sure the prophecy became truth. Severus died, because he had seen his mistakes and was trying to make up for them, but encountered a vicious snake on his path to righteousness. Our classmates, schoolmates, died, because they couldn’t let a madman take over their school, their second home. Not while they were still there to avoid it. And…” Here Draco hesitated, not sure whether he should continue. Potter looked at him with wide eyes, full of need for reassurance. Full of fear.

“And your parents died, because they would do anything to keep you safe. Because they thought that perhaps, by doing this, there was a tiny chance that it would guarantee you staying alive. Because they knew, that if they succeeded in keeping you breathing, there was still a possibility of the Dark Lord being beaten. They didn’t die for you. They died for themselves. To make this world a better place. For everyone who would live and get children and grandchildren. So that everyone in times of trouble, would remember them and think: yes, I can do this. If only I am willing to fight for my beliefs.”

Draco averted his eyes and quickly took a few sips from his Firewhiskey. He knew his hands were trembling, but hoped that Potter, in his nightmare-induced daze, wouldn’t notice.

“Thank you,” was the only thing Potter said.  
Draco mumbled something that sounded like a trivialisation, and shrugged slightly.  
“No, really. I think that’s what I needed to hear. You’re right. It really helped.”

When Draco peeked over the rim of his glass, he saw Potter looking back at him, with the most sincere expression on his face. Draco almost reached out to calm him further down with a touch, because Potter still got this frightened look in his eyes, but he stopped himself.

“Can we talk about you, for a second now? For example, are you still in touch with your friends from school?”

Draco thought about whether he wanted to go down this road. The answer was yes, which he hadn’t expected.

“Yes, I am. Pansy, Blaise and Greg, mostly. I used to send a weekly owl to Daphne –Greengrass-, but since Astoria and I split up, it wasn’t exactly friendly contact anymore. A pity, really, because I rather liked her quirky comments about political situations. And I see Nott often, but he’s Blaise’s partner, so whenever I meet up with Blaise after work, Nott’s there as well.”

“Partner?” Potter asked curiously.  
“Merlin – No, Potter, not like that. Stop your gay thinking right this second. Blaise is as straight as they get. So is Nott, come to think of it. They work together. Work partners. Colleagues, but always together on a case? You know, partners.”  
“Right, yeah, sorry. So you Slytherins meet up regularly? Hang out?”  
“Yes, we do. Pansy and I had a little tradition of going out together every month. I doubt we’ll continue that, now that I live here. She was adamant about not ever coming here again, after the final battle.”

Potter swirled the liquid in his glass and hummed. “She shouldn’t,” he mumbled. It sounded as if Draco wasn’t supposed to hear it, but he did. And he got furious.

Standing up and taking his drink with him, Draco rounded on Potter. Potter’s eyes had grown wide in surprise, mostly at Draco’s quick movement, but also at the sneer that was directed his way.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me, at all?” Draco snarled. “Saint Potter, being all good and brave, forgiving Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, oh goody, what a perfect human being. But all the while, he can’t get over one tiny little mistake of one of his classmates. How generous you are, to speak up for the poster boy of a new generation of Death Eaters, yet refusing to speak positively about other Death Eater children. How proud you must be.”

“She wanted to hand me over to Voldemort!” Potter shouted, also standing up.  
“What do you think I was trying to do in the Room of Requirement, Potter? Play a game of chess and teach you folk dancing?”  
“You were pushed and threatened by your parents, and Voldemort himself. You didn’t have a choice.”  
“I had more of a choice than Pansy had. I was an Occlumens. Pansy couldn’t do anything to protect herself from him.”  
“She could run. She had less pressure from her family.”  
“She would have been found within two days, and killed for her disloyalty. Probably after some of our friends or family would have been killed, right in front of her eyes. You really don’t understand how it worked, do you? You have no idea!”  
“Frankly, I do have an idea. That’s why I even defended you at your trial. Remember that, Malfoy? How I told them to let you go without a punishment?”  
“How dare you throw that in my face? Did I ask for your intervention? And yes, I remember. I remember very clearly how you told everyone that I was just a boy. Only seventeen. Raised in an environment that didn’t leave me much choice. Say, Potter, do you want to know something about Pansy?” Draco sneered, with the most saccharine smile he could muster. His face twisted down to something foul when he continued. “People seem to forget she was just a girl. Only seventeen. Raised in an environment that didn’t leave her much choice. And for some odd little reason, she wasn’t defended by you. She has to live with the knowledge that no one would ever forgive her for what she’d done, because you didn’t see her for the desperate girl she was. And that is your fault. The people who died, aren’t, but Pansy’s being miserable for the rest of her life, is.”

Potter looked at him with a slack jaw and shocked expression.

“I would like you to leave now. I’m quite done with this conversation. You seem to be recovered from your nightmare. Good night,” Draco announced, icily and with his most haughty Malfoy mask. He opened the door and waited for Potter to move.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that,” Potter said, when he was close enough to Draco to be heard in whisper.  
“I’m sure you hadn’t. But honestly, it doesn’t make your case any better.” With that, Draco closed the door behind Potter. He was really glad he had put up a Silencing charm. He hadn’t wanted Phi to hear their fight.

At least it was like old times again. Potter and him at Hogwarts, fighting after merely half an hour alone together.


	6. My name's Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I needed to do this. No regrets, though.

The next few weeks were uneventful. Draco taught classes, had a few annoying dinners with Potter rattling next to him, and met up with Neville. He had settled into a rhythm. And now, he had his children in his living room for a calm evening with the family.

“All right. As I understand, Aquila, Professor Flitwick never checks whether you’re inside before curfew, right?”  
Aquila nodded enthusiastically. “He believes we should be responsible for it ourselves. If we are caught out of the Tower, then we are to blame for the docked points. Great man, that Flitwick.”

Scorpius snorted. “Yeah, such interesting classes he gives as well.”

Draco smiled at them. “And Scorp, Cassie, I heard your Head of House has given you permission to enjoy some time with your father. Phi, you… well, you are always here. So, it’s fine, I guess. If that’s all arranged, I think it’s time for a bit of music.”

Cassie quickly grabbed her wand and started casting some spell. With a grin, she started bopping her head on the intro music of some Weird Sisters song. Ophiuchus started groaning in agony, joined by Scorpius. Aquila held her sister’s hands and started dancing slowly with her, singing the lyrics on the top of her lungs. Draco winced at the false notes both girls hit.

“Girls, girls! Please. You sound awful,” Draco laughed. He thought of his mother, who was always so surprised at the way Draco treated his children. According to her, Draco was loving, open, yet strict. The children knew what he wanted and how to behave, but they weren’t as tightly reined as Draco used to be. Draco smiled inwardly. He hoped his mother was right; her description was exactly how he had always wanted to raise his children.

“We don’t sound awful, we are naturally talented. You’ve said so yourself,” Cassie smirked at him.  
“I think it would help if you sang something other than Weird Sisters,” Ophiuchus shot back.  
“It seems like we have weird sisters,” Scorpius added dryly.  
Cassie ignored both her brothers and turned to look at her father. “Papa, will you sing for us tonight? You haven’t done that in a while.”

This made the other three pairs of eyes widen in anticipation. Aquila silenced the music.  
“Yes, papa! Sing and dance for us! Do one of your acts!”

Draco sighed. “I knew I never should have started doing it for you. What do you want me to do?”

Draco had always done small acts for his friends, and now for his children. Sometimes he sang, sometimes he acted out a scene from this or that, and sometimes he sang so exaggeratedly that it became an act on itself. No doubt his children would choose for the latter today.

“Papa, sing Jason Mraz! Will you do that?” Aquila asked enthusiastically. Scorpius grinned and nodded. Draco knew he would do whatever they asked him to do. He couldn’t deny them anything.

“All right… But you know I can’t do this alone. Ms. Aquila Auriga Malfoy, would you do me the honour of accompanying me on my quest?” Draco said, with a formal bow. Aquila giggled and, adequately raised in the pure-blood manners, accepted her father’s hand with grace and let herself be lead towards the dinner table. Draco set her down on it. With a quick flick, he started the music he knew his children wanted to hear and began to sing.

“When I look into your eyes  
It’s like watching the night sky…”

On his mark, Aquila joined in with her soprano voice. Draco loved these moments, where they were just singing and working together. It takes a lot of knowledge of each other to make it work, but after a few years of practice, it worked. And all of his children had such beautiful voices. Draco very often used their singing as a happy memory in bad times. It always helped him.

The evening rolled on, with them having fun and singing the most ridiculous songs. When it had gotten darker and the lights were on, they were still going on.

“Papa, will you sing Chiquitita?” Scorpius asked when the notes of the last song faded away. “The Mamma Mia version.”

Immediately, Draco began, grinning. They always ended with ABBA. Lovely music, those Muggles had. He wasn’t ashamed of using big gestures to act out some parts of the song, and he directed his children to sing along. Ophiuchus started dancing –or rather, moving with his body in an attempt at dancing.

“Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong  
I have never seen such sorrow  
In your eyes…” Here, Draco motioned for Cassie to join in.  
“And the wedding is tomorrow?!” And yes, they had a competition who could say ‘tomorrow’ the weirdest and the loudest.

While they were singing the last two verses, all five of them were dancing and jumping around, even Draco himself. He indulged in these little joys from time to time. On the top of his lungs, he belted out the last sentences, including some idiotic dance steps that got Cassie laughing like a madman.

“Chiquitita, you and I cry  
But the sun is still in the sky  
And shining above you  
Let me hear you sing once more  
Like you did before”

Draco made a perfectly executed slide at the final notes

“Sing a new song -”

The door opened. Potter was standing in the doorway, with open mouth and widened eyes. 

“… Chiquitita,” Draco finished softly, while he straightened up and got his Malfoy mask in place. Cassiopeia had erupted in giggles, the second the door opened. Aquila made a muffled snort. Phi and Scorp hadn’t made a sound. Potter was trying hard to bite down his smile, but it resulted in a malformed Cheshire grin.

“Potter,” Draco greeted, with all the dignity he could muster. Which was, admittedly, not much, seeing as he had just been caught singing ABBA and dancing ridiculously, by Potter of all people.

“Hi,” Potter answered. Draco heard a loud honk come from the bed and shot a look at Scorpius, who was laughing without a sound, but holding his stomach.  
“Scorpius, behave,” Draco murmured, which only got Phi to start laughing uncontrollably. Scorpius got a pained expression on his face, presumably from laughing so hard. Draco had a hard time suppressing his laughter as well, and the corners of his mouth kept quirking up and down.

“A bunch of us have been going to Hogsmeade last couple of Saturday evenings, and I was going to ask you to join us. But I see you’re otherwise engaged,” Potter said. His grin split his face in two.

“Ah. Yes, I am. Otherwise engaged. Not going to Hogsmeade with… the bunch of you. My Saturdays are quite full,” Draco answered. Cassie stood next to him and was giggling. Draco could feel her shoulders moving. In an attempt to calm her a bit, he put his hand on her shoulder. Unfortunately, she only laughed harder. This got Draco to let out a huff as well, which he tried to hide by ducking his head.

Potter finally chuckled out loud. “Yeah, I see. Never mind.” He smiled at Draco. Draco nodded back at him. “Good night, Potter.”

The second the door closed, his children let out loud howl of laughter Draco had heard in a while. He put his face in his hands and let himself chortle as well. He realised, somewhere during his snickers, that this was the first sort of conversation he had had with Potter since the night he had had a nightmare and had come to Draco. Draco found himself thinking he had rather enjoyed that evening. That wouldn’t do.

“Beasts, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. Aquila, will you be all right, going to the Ravenclaw Tower?” Aquila nodded, but her response was drowned out by Cassie’s wailing.  
“Papa, why do we have to go to bed? It’s only half past eleven! Let us stay up a bit longer, please!”

A short exchange followed between Draco and his daughter, which ended –of course- in Draco’s favour. Pouting, but also fighting her drooping eyelids, Cassie went to search for her wand, somewhere between the cushions of the sofa.

“Papa, will you go to Hogsmeade with the others?” Aquila asked softly, while Draco was cleaning up the used glasses. Draco shook his head. “No, love, I won’t.”  
“Why not?”  
With a smile, Draco met her perceptive gaze and answered in a whisper: “Because they don’t want me there.”

Aquila looked stricken for a second. “Professor Potter just asked you,” she said.  
“He’s the Saviour, he can’t help his hero complex,” Draco joked, returning to the dishes.  
“Papa…” His daughter sounded exasperated, which was actually kind of scary and adorable at the same time. “Promise me you’ll go to Hogsmeade with them some time?”

With a sigh, Draco complied and pinkie promised. Aquila gave him a quick hug, and Cassie joined them with a roar. Along with Scorpius, they headed out, but Draco called out his oldest son’s name.

Scorpius turned around, questioning frown in place.

“Sit down, will you?” Draco asked when he daughters had closed the door behind them. “Ophiuchus, go change and get ready for bed.” Phi moved languidly to the bedroom. He was tired, Draco could see.

Scorpius had sat down on the sofa and looked at his feet. He probably knew what was coming.  
“Scorpius, tell me what happened.”  
It seemed like Scorpius was going to pretend he didn’t know what this was about, but changed his mind.  
“They had hurt Albus. Quite badly, I might add. We fought.”  
“How bad is it?”  
“Well, it’s not very recognisable. It’s just a few lines, and it’s only obvious when you know what you’re looking at. Priscus isn’t very good at drawing, you know,” Scorpius tried to joke, looking up at his father. Draco’s stern look told him the joke wasn’t appreciated.

“Really, papa, it isn’t that bad. Look.” He rolled up his sleeve and showed the scar. A few faint lines were visible, only remotely identifiable as the Dark Mark. A churning feeling in Draco’s stomach seized up, before it calmed again. He looked at the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whatever deity was up there.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he spoke softly.  
Scorpius looked pained. “I wasn’t supposed to. See, even before Terence and Priscus, there were students who bullied Slytherins. They were trying to bring Slytherin down, to get points docked and the like. Ever since this was known to Slytherins, we refused to give them the satisfaction. So whenever you are admitted to the Hospital Wing, you try to get away as soon as possible. Everyone helps each other get to every class and help with learning. In some cases, all the homework was done by others, because the attacked Slytherin has to sleep or rest. We don’t want to fulfil their expectations by telling a professor, so we just had to pretend like nothing happened. Upper years cast spells to hide bruises or to kill pain. It isn’t a matter of being bullied anymore. It’s a violation of our pride. It’s a challenge we don’t want to back out from.”

Draco was silent. It sounded awful, but he understood their reasoning. Of course he did, he had the same pride, the same stubbornness.  
Scorpius noticed that his father wasn’t judging him, so he added happily: “Papa, there’s even this girl, and she’s so good at potions! Whenever we make a potion, she finishes hers very early, and starts making advanced healing potions with the ingredients she smuggles every class. It’s really cool!”

“She what? Okay, I understand she makes those potions, and it is rather impressive, but she smuggles ingredients? Don’t you mean steal?”

Scorpius flushed. “No, not really. She just checks what kind of ingredients she needs for a new healing potion, and when we make a potion in class with one of those ingredients, she pretend to fail her potion and asks for more ingredients. It’s for a good cause.”

“I’m sure it is. What’s her name?”  
“Papa, you can’t punish her for this. It’s the only way we could go on. Papa, you must understand!”

Draco slowly turned his head to look Scorpius straight in the eye. “I’m not going to punish her. I think. I do, however, want to know her name. If she is as good as you say she is, I am interested in talking to her. So, I am going to ask you one more time. What is her name?”

“Theresia Zarnel, fifth-year.”  
“Good. Now, it’s time for you to go to bed as well. We’ll speak tomorrow. And don’t worry about Zarnel, or anything else. I am not angry with you. I said I understand.”

Scorpius sent him a grateful smile and sneaked to his own dorm, where he would probably tell Albus all about it.

Tomorrow, Draco would find this Zarnel girl and ask her to show him what she could do. She might be useful for a little project Draco was about to start.

At breakfast the next morning, Potter sat down and greeted him cheerily. The tension between them of last couple of weeks had lessened considerably.

“So, you had fun last night?” Potter asked with a cheeky grin.  
“Potter,” Draco glared at him, but couldn’t help the corners of his mouth twitch upwards just slightly.  
“It sure looked like you had fun. Do you often have sing-along parties?”  
“Potter, we are not discussing this.”  
“Oh, all right then. Because you say so.”

Draco let a smug smile take over his face. He was just about to take a bite of his toast, when Phi climbed on his lap and stole the piece that Draco had speared on his fork.  
“Ophiuchus, don’t steal other people’s food.”  
“I’m not stealing, I’m borrowing. You can have it back whenever you want,” Phi replied boldly, taking another piece from Draco’s plate.

“Sometimes I have no idea how he became like this,” Draco sighed to Potter. He wasn’t sure whether Potter had heard him, because Phi was already talking. He was incredibly energetic, and it was no wonder his hair was jet-black.

“Say, Mr. Potter, did you enjoy papa’s performance last night?”  
“I’m sorry, Ophiuchus, I can’t talk about it,” Potter answered, sounding sorrowful.  
“You promised me you would call me Phi. And why can’t you talk about it?”  
“Okay, Phi. You promised me you would call me Harry.” Potter chuckled. “And I can’t talk about it, because I told your father that I wouldn’t talk about it. Simple as that, really.”  
“My papa. Not my father. Papa doesn’t like being called ‘father’.” Potter glanced at Draco at that, and Draco did his best to show no emotion, while sipping his tea.

Phi continued his conversation with Potter, but with a more thoughtful tone to his voice. “But I can’t call you by your given name. Papa says I can’t call people you barely know by their given names. It’s impolite. Right, papa?”  
Draco just smiled and nodded, urging Phi to keep eating his breakfast. It was silent for a few moments, until Phi exclaimed victoriously: “I’ve got it!”

He turned in Draco’s lap and looked at the both of them with his I’m-brilliant!-look.

“I can just call you Mr. Harry. Then papa is satisfied, because I call you mister, and you are happy, because I call you Harry. That’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

Potter laughed at Phi’s enthusiasm, while Draco was trying to keep a straight face. Mr. Harry. His son quite clearly had lost his mind somewhere. But of course, he nodded indulgently and couldn’t help but smile when Phi beamed up at him.

Breakfast continued, with Draco and Ophiuchus enjoying a conversation just between the two of them. Draco saw that Potter kept shooting them looks. Sometimes, he even kept staring for a long amount of time. It grated on Draco’s nerves, but he was wise enough not to mention it.

When Phi had finished, he asked whether he could go to Aquila and Matias. Draco acquiesced and kissed him softly on his crown. The moment Phi was out of earshot, Potter addressed Draco again, asking him whether he had found time to talk to Scorpius already. Draco hummed in response, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Potter.

“Has he told you, then?”  
“Yes, I know everything now. I think. I still want to know why exactly he didn’t tell me, because his reasons aren’t good enough for me. Why?”  
“Just wondering. I wouldn’t want him to keep things from you. You’re his father –papa, or whatever. I didn’t mean anything with it. Don’t be insulted.”

Draco turned his head to properly look at Potter.  
“I wasn’t insulted. I appreciate your concern for Scorpius.”  
Potter looked surprised. “Yeah, well, he is Albus’s best friend.”  
“That he is.”

A second passed in which neither of them said anything. Potter’s face twisted into something thoughtful.

“What is it?” Draco asked with a sigh.  
“Hm? Nothing, why would you think so?”  
“You’ve got your I’m-thinking-and-it-hurts-face.”  
“Oh. Nothing in particular.”

Silence again.

“Potter?”  
“Hm?”  
“Perhaps, if you’d like to, we could start again?”

Silence.

Draco met Potter’s gaze steadily and offered his hand. Potter took it with a careful smile.

“My name’s Harry Potter.”  
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”


	7. Potions Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for taking so long. Some people said I was being distant and absent, and they forbid me to keep writing. I had to write in secret...
> 
> Next chapter won't be this long, I promise!

After Draco had released Potter’s hand, they both resumed their breakfast.

“My best friend is called Ron Weasley, have you heard of him?” Potter asked. His voice was light and joking. Draco arched an eyebrow at him. He knew Potter was trying to goad him into insulting Weasley again, just like their first real meeting.

“Unfortunately, so, yes. Isn’t he the ginger of the Golden Trio?” Draco replied. He could give as good as he got, honestly. He still knew how to push Potter’s buttons, so if Potter was goading him, he wouldn’t hesitate to return the favour.

It worked, of course. Potter rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Sure. Have you met the new Weasley clan already?”  
“Yes, I’ve had some of them in my class. Most of them. Remind me again which children are whose?”

Potter snorted at Draco’s request.

“Never thought I heard you expressing an interest in the Weasleys. Let’s see. I believe Potions is still mandatory for most of them. Er – Rose and Hugo are from Ron and Hermione, and Louis is the youngest child of Bill and Fleur. Lucy is youngest girl of Percy, and Molly is his oldest. Molly chose Potions voluntarily. She takes a bit after her father, in her need to know everything.”

“Ah, I see. She is quite good at them, I must admit. And all of those redheads are in Gryffindor?”  
Potter chuckled. “Yes, they are. Every child with Weasley blood gets into Gryffindor. It’s a law of nature.”  
“Except for Albus.”  
“Yes, well, Albus is special in every way.”  
“I’m sure he is. Scorpius doesn’t choose his friends lightly.”  
“I’m glad you seem to approve of Albus then,” Potter remarked dryly. Draco rolled his eyes in response.  
“Potter, if I were to disapprove, I would be far too late to do anything about it, wouldn’t I?”

Potter hummed in agreement.

“And who are the other Weasleys here?” Draco asked, eyeing the Gryffindor table with quite some curiosity.  
“Well, we’ve got Roxane, the youngest child of George and Angelina. Their oldest is a boy called Fred, but he’s not at school anymore. And there’s Dominique, older sister of Louis. They’ve got one more sister, Victoire, but she’s also done with Hogwarts. And that’s the second generation of Weasleys.”

“That isn’t too bad. I had expected more children. At least six per child.”  
“I think they didn’t feel the need to. Every child had enough playmates already.”  
“Clearly. But wasn’t there another son? What was it, the dragon tamer, Charles or something?”  
Potter’s eyes widened in surprise at Draco’s knowledge of the Weasley family.

“Yeah, Charlie. He’s married to his dragons, he doesn’t really have time for a wife and children. It’s too bad we don’t see him that often anymore.”  
“You say ‘we’ like you’re really part of it. Are you, still? Their adopted son?”

Draco saw Potter smiling slightly and looking at his hands.  
“Yeah, I guess I am. I thought I wouldn’t, after things broke off with Ginny, but they kept treating me like their sixth son. I guess they all understand.”

There was a silence in which both of them were a bit lost in their own thoughts.

“I’ve always wondered, how is it to be an only child?” Potter asked suddenly. Draco looked at him in surprise, but hid it well. He considered answering sarcastically –multiple responses were already coming to mind-, but he decided against it.

“Well, it’s silent mostly. Especially when one grows up in a house like the Manor. No matter how much noise one makes, all other rooms are quiet. I imagine the Burrow is nothing like that.”  
“No, there’s always something going on, even now that they’ve all settled on their own. There are always Weasleys stomping around,” Potter replied. His gaze told Draco he wanted to know more, so Draco complied.

“It used to frighten me, when I was younger. The house seemed so dead to me. When I was just five or six, I wanted to hear noises when I went to bed, but I couldn’t even hear my parents talking downstairs,” Draco mused. He chose his words carefully, not wanting to actually show any weaknesses to his school rival, but also not wanting to get back to their cold conversations of the past month. “And now, there’s always a child yelling, or crying, or laughing. So since I have them, I hunker for some peace and quiet around me.”

Potter chuckled. “You won’t get that at Hogwarts, especially as Head of House. But ehm– that sounds like Cassiopeia. Neville says he often finds her in some dark, secluded corner of the greenhouses. He used to think she was being bullied, so he approached her, but she just smiled at him and said she needed her peace and quiet.”

Draco didn’t resist the small quirk of his mouth that always appeared when someone mentioned his children. “I know. She’s always done that. At home, she vanished for hours, and no one could find her. She says she needs to think, so she finds the quietest spot.”  
“And you never knew where she was?” Potter asked, a note of desperation in his voice, the sound of a parent who knows how it feels to not know where the children are.  
“No, I didn’t. You can imagine how worried I was. Until I found out she had just been hiding in some corner in the attic, where no one’s been for ages. And she always reappeared the moment I called her.”

Potter was full out grinning now. “That’s a relief. Say, I heard you didn’t live at the Malfoy Manor anymore?”  
“No, I live somewhere closer to London. Malfoy Lodge, a house we’ve always had but never used. The Manor is my mother’s territory now.” Draco’s Lodge was quite beautiful, even if he said so himself. He preferred it over the Manor, not only in looks, but also in history.

The Malfoy Lodge was quite a lot smaller than the Manor, but still a big house. It had three floors, on which they actually lived and slept and ate, but also a fourth and an attic. The fourth floor was where they kept old toys, furniture they didn’t use anymore but also didn’t want to throw away, and stuff from Draco’s childhood. The things one would usually store in the attic.

But their attic was difficult to reach. It was only accessible by climbing a ladder and worming your way through an opening in the ceiling of the fourth floor. The opening was closed off by a shutter that was locked from the inside. Cassie had somehow found a way to open the shutter from the outside, and thus, creating a safe haven for herself. Quite impressive, really.

“How is your mother?” Potter continued their conversation.   
“Oh, very well, thank you. She is matron of a big organisation, which keeps her occupied and happy.”  
“Good. I don’t mean to be impolite, but…”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Potter doesn’t mean to be impolite. How kind. It will be impolite, though, won’t it?” he asked. Potter shrugged in response.  
“Well, I was wondering… You’ve always seemed to be quite attached to the Manor. So, if your mother would have passed away, would you live there?”

The question surprised Draco. It was, indeed, an impolite question, he had guessed that right.  
“No,” he answered directly. “No, it would still be my father’s, Lucius’s property. Don’t forget that he’s still alive,” Draco half-joked, half-warned. Potter looked at his plate, probably ashamed that he had forgotten it.

“Okay then, what if both had deceased?” Potter asked after a moment of thought.  
“Then I think… I would have to. Because of the family name and all, it would have to be my official address. But I would presumably still live at the Lodge. I don’t think my children would like to move. The Lodge is their home, as the Manor was mine. I couldn’t take them away from there, even if I would want to.”  
“I never understood why someone would care so much about a house. It’s just a building,” Potter said, sounding thoughtful.  
“It’s a home. You grow adapted to the sounds, the smells, the texture. If you’ve lived in the same house ever since you were born, it becomes a part of you. It’s been built by your ancestors, the history is in your bones. Why do you think many pure-blood families have an entire gallery with portraits of their forefathers?”  
“That sounds like living in a museum.”  
“It is,” Draco answered without missing a beat. “It absolutely is. And it’s important to keep it that way. Many portraits give good advice, because they’ve been through the same struggles and have faced the same obstacles. The importance of that, of history and tradition, is often forgotten.”

Potter looked at him with an unreadable expression. He shook it off, though, and the two of them had shallow, easy conversation for the rest of the meal.

Their companionship didn’t go unnoticed. Scorpius and Albus were whispering and gesturing frantically, until Cassie asked them what they were talking about and was enlightened. Ophiuchus, who had been sitting with his oldest sister, was sent to his Slytherin siblings to find out what was going on. He was also assigned to visit the Gryffindor table, under pretence of Albus wanting to give James a note. Phi discreetly told James and first-year Lily what the Slytherins had observed and what the implications could be. Many questioning, reassuring and plotting looks were given and returned.

None of these talks and plans were heard or detected by other students, nor teachers.

That morning, Draco had the fifth year students in his classroom. He saw two Weasleys, indeed: Louis and Lucy, but also James Potter. When scanning the room further, he saw Theresia Zarnel sitting in the back of the class, reading some book and copying parts of it. Today, they would be brewing a rather difficult potion, with rather difficult ingredients. Draco was curious to see whether the Zarnel girl would be as good as Scorpius told him.

“James Potter?” Draco called out. Potter’s son walked up to him with a questioning glance. Some of his friends had equally confused expressions, and others seemed to think he had done something wrong.

“Could you hand these out for me?” Draco asked, handing James a pile of parchment, on which instructions are for the potion the class would be brewing today.  
“Yes sir,” James answered, quickly moving away to hand them out.

“Louis Weasley, give everyone a cauldron. Ask a friend to help you.” Draco said then.

He might have decided to pay the Gryffindor spawns some more attention, along with Theresia Zarnel.

“All right, everyone. You will be working in pairs today, even the Slytherins and Ravenclaws who think they can do better. For this potion, you will have to work together. You see I have given you instructions on parchment, instead of instructions in your books. I have my reasons for that, so I expect you to follow the hand-outs instead of the book. Any questions? No? Good. Start.”

The hassle of students trying to get the right ingredients started immediately as Draco gave them permission. They all started cutting and brewing desperately, some a bit more controlled than others. Zarnel, Draco noticed, was very calm and sure. He guessed Scorpius had been right about her talent for Potions.

The students were supposed to make a potion, including the Sopophorus bean as an ingredient, the bean that is wont to jump away when touched with the blade. Draco had been anticipating the ruckus it would cause, but had also dreaded the amount of cleaning he would have to do later on.

On his first check-up round, he saw Lucy Weasley have a lot of trouble with cutting the beans. Her partner was stirring the bubbling liquid in their cauldron and couldn’t help her. Draco walked up to their work table. Lucy visibly startled at his appearance.

“Miss Weasley, do you happen to know why you’re not able to cut the bean?” Draco asked. He heard Severus’s voice through his own and grinned inwardly.  
“Because I’m a failure,” the girl said obediently, like she was used to hearing that.  
“That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to give you actual advice,” Draco remarked. Both girls looked up, not disguising their surprise. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Listen, the Sopophorus bean is very difficult, there is no denying it. There are multiple solutions for it, though. For some potions, it can’t harm to crunch it with the blade of your knife. For this one, however, it is very important that you cut it, and not crunch it. Put your hand over the bean, so that it’s properly covered and it can’t go anywhere,” he instructed, as Lucy fumbled her way through his guidance.

“Now open your pointer and middle finger just the tiniest bit. Good. Place the blade between your fingers, take care to not cut the web between them, and slide carefully. The bean will jump in your hand, but if you hold it correctly, it can’t exactly move. Very good! Also, make sure that every piece you cut must be two centimetres. That is quite important. One finger is about that wide, so just use your hand as measurement. Continue on.”

Draco passed the girls something like a smile and moved to the next pair. He saw Zarnel working swiftly through her potion and scribbling things down on a half-hidden piece of parchment. When she looked up and saw his gaze, she quickly formed some sort of confused and flummoxed expression. Draco stifled a smile at that.

The moment he saw most faces become glazed over and bewildered, he called attention to himself again.

“I see most of you don’t understand what you’re supposed to do, and if I would let you continue, this entire classroom would blow up within an hour. Which we don’t want. So, let me tell you some of the basics of Potion-making. I can’t believe I actually have to explain this to fifth-years. Your former professor must have been terrible.”

A few Slytherins, who were used to his little jabs at other people, and knew to take it as jokes, chuckled.

“On some work tables, I see enormous blocks of the ingredients being cut. On other tables, the pieces are tiny and barely visible for the naked eye. You must know that instructions aren’t unnecessary page-filling. They are there for a reason. If the pieces are too big, the juice can’t come out correctly and it won’t mix well with the rest of your potions. If you cut them too small, there will be far too much juice and your cauldron will explode. The juice of most ingredients is the carrier of magical codes. The way and amount this juice is released, will directly affect the working of the potion. Thus, if the instructions say ‘cut pieces of two centimetres’, do exactly that. Don’t think they’re useless.”

A few students, mostly Gryffindors, looked sheepishly at their bubbling cauldrons. Draco bit his own smug look away.

“I know many instructions in your books are in fact useless. Your books are outdated and in some cases, even proven wrong. Unfortunately, the Ministry will not acknowledge new, modern Potions books to be used at Hogwarts, even though many top-of-the-class Potion Masters have written their own versions. I don’t mean to insinuate anything, but most Potion Masters have been Slytherins, and that might be a clarification.  
From now on, you will be brewing from hand-outs, on which the instructions will be correct. In short, you won’t have to bring your Potions books to class anymore. You’ll only have to use it for assignments.”

Grins appeared on many faces, because the Potions book was thick and heavy. One more reason why Draco had wanted them gone from his classroom; he had to carry those books as well. There were a small amount of people with thoughtful, if not crestfallen, expressions at Draco’s statement of Potion Masters being Slytherins.

“One more thing to conclude with. In my time, there were only twelve students who had passed their Potions NEWTs. I, personally, think this is outrageous. The sixth and seventh year Potion classes are also suspiciously empty. I would like to assume it was because your Professor wasn’t any good, but even I am aware that that is not the case. I know for a fact that no one chooses the class or passes the NEWTs, because most people think they aren’t good enough. I believe some of you will want to become an Auror, or perhaps even a Potion Master, and will need to pass the class. So, I am going to give you an assignment.”

Draco stopped the fire beneath the cauldrons with a flick of his wand, and then continued.

“I want all of you to write the best Potions assignment you’ve ever written. I won’t give you a subject, you can choose whatever you want, as long as it is connected to potions and potioneering. If you don’t know where to start, I will give you a few suggestions.  
Slytherins are known to be exceptionally good at Potions. This is because of their precision and their inclination to think ahead. Write about the effect of stirring clockwise or anti-clockwise on a potion. Write about the enhancing abilities of cutting or crunching ingredient.

“The Hufflepuff House is strongly connected to Herbology, correct?” Draco continued, looking at some Hufflepuffs. They didn’t answer, but seemed to listen intently.

“Hufflepuffs tend to know many things about plants and their workings. And since potions practically always need plants to work, an extensive knowledge on plants can be very useful. With that, many potions can be engineered and created, without being a Potion Master itself. Use your strength, Hufflepuffs. Use those green fingers of yours to understand the ingredients of the potion!

“And Ravenclaws, I always thought you were supposed to want to find out how things work? To know the ins and outs of every small detail, because it’s an unknown fact? Bring this to practice in your Potions work. Dive into the smallest, most intricate technicalities of some strange ingredient and work out why this specific ingredient is used.”

Draco saw people looking at each other, partly surprise, partly resignation about a writing assignment and partly enthusiasm of having no set subject.

“As for you, Gryffindors… Well, I don’t know how to get your interest rolling, but I do know that you are stubborn. Incredibly, unbelievably, astonishingly stubborn. So stubborn, that you would do anything to win a challenge. Is that somewhere close to your characters?” He raised a challenging eyebrow to prove his point. The first to respond was, ironically, James Potter.

“Of course we like a good challenge. And okay, we don’t take loss very well. But I don’t see how this has anything to do with the assignment. And it sounds like an insult,” he spoke. The two Weasley children nodded vigorously.

Draco smirked. “So sorry, hadn’t noticed that it came out like an insult,” he said sweetly, but with a wink to show he meant well.  
“Well, I challenge you, all of you Gryffindors, to write an assignment about a potion I have never heard of.”

Some Gryffindors snorted, as if to say that they couldn’t care less.

“Unless you think you aren’t able to do such a thing,” Draco added, his voice sounding a bit more sneering than he intended. Eh, it got the message alright. The Gryffindor students sat up straighter and all got a fighter’s look in their eyes.

Those Gryffindors were so easily manipulated into doing something.

“We can do it. Obviously. You’ll be surprised,” James said proudly, tilting his chin up a bit. Draco suppressed a smile at that, and just morphed his face into something equally taunting, but equally subtle.

“Try me. And no asking other Houses for help. I’ll find out and point will be docked. Just a reminder,” he warned, just before the class finished.  
Merlin, was it a Gryffindor trait, or were Potters so easily riled up?

The class filed out, students chatting happily about every silly thing they could think of. When Draco saw Zarnel leave the classroom, he called her name. She seemed to tense a bit, but forcibly relaxed when she turned around to face him. Draco waited until every other student was gone, before he started talking.

“I heard you are having trouble with brewing potions,” he asked her earnestly. Her eyes shimmered with something like mischief, but her face remained a mask, made a bit too sorrowful to be genuine.

“I have. I keep messing up, and it has cost me many points already,” she complained.  
“Indeed,” Draco responded pensively. “And which potions do you mess up? The ones you make for class, or for your Housemates?”

Zarnel’s face lit up in shock as she tried to find an answer that satisfied Draco but would not give away her entire secret.

“Save it,” Draco interrupted her train of thought. “I already know about the potions. I merely called you back, because I need your help on something.”  
“I am not giving away my friends and Housemates,” she said defensively.  
“That’s not what I was going to ask.” Draco smirked. “Why, is there something you can give your friends away for?”

Zarnel realised her mistake immediately, but recovered. She seemed genuine this time. “I thought you would want me to tell you how I get my ingredients and who help me. But I’m not going to give you any names.”  
“As I said, that’s not what I was going to ask. I know why you do it, and I’m not going to stop you. Unless you’re making something else than Healing and Pain potions.”

The brown-haired girl nodded. “That sounds fair.”  
“I thought so. But I still need your help. Your brewing skills to be exact. I am starting a little project, and I could use an extra pair of capable hands. Would you be willing?”

Zarnel frowned. “What will I get in return? Is it illegal? What would the project consist of?”  
“It is not illegal in the slightest. The project would consist of brewing potions and noting the results. No paperwork, no theoretical research. Just brewing. As for what you’d get in return…” Draco smiled absently. “Something you’ve always wanted. I would give you an apprentice-ship.”

Upon hearing this, Zarnel’s mouth fell open and she gaped at Draco.  
“Ap-apprentice?” she asked, gobsmacked.  
“Yes. You would be an apprentice of a Potion Master. And an infamous one, at that.”

Zarnel laughed. “You’re not exactly infamous for your brewing skills, sir.”  
“No,” Draco conceded. “I am not. But I am known, and anyone with objective knowledge of potioneering knows I am good at what I do. Very good. You would be able to make a name for yourself, Zarnel. Help me with this project, and if everything goes right, your name will be in the papers.”

“And what if it doesn’t go right?”  
“Then you’ll have gotten a lot of experience in working with difficult potions. Nothing lost. So, what do you say?”  
Zarnel thought about it for a moment, but her eyes twinkled and shone.

“I don’t know yet,” she said after a minute. Draco knew she was just being a Slytherin; never seem too eager to get something.  
“That’s all right. Mull the idea over in your head, it’ll only start sounding better.”

The girl laughed again and moved towards the door.

“Just, hand in your affirmation before tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to start as soon as possible,” Draco told her. Zarnel looked him in the eyes and nodded.  
“I will,” she answered, with a smile that informed Draco that she knew she had already affirmed her position as his apprentice.

Good. Tonight, Draco would make a start in ordering the paperwork Neville had given him. He was looking forward to it.


	8. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Here's another chapter. I hope you still like it. Sorry for being so slow on the updates, I'm trying to have one up every week. Comment if you want to, and thank you!

That night, Draco couldn’t sleep. He was restless, tossing and turning in his bed, afraid to wake up Phi with his sighs and yawns. He was so tired, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t fall asleep either. Purgatory. That’s what it was.

Somewhere around midnight, a few moments after the old grandfather clock in his living room had struck, someone knocked on his door. It was urgent, rapt. Cassie probably had had a nightmare, which would also explain why Draco was restless. He was always restless at nights Cassie had bad dreams. He felt them coming.

Draco walked to the door without properly opening his eyes.  
“Had a nightmare again, Cassie love?” Draco asked, while unlocking. There was no answer.  
“Come on, get inside,” he urged. He opened his arms in invitation for her to fall into.

The body that crashed into his wasn’t his daughter’s. Draco’s eyes flew open and he wasn’t tired anymore. Potter had buried his head in Draco’s neck and clutched his pyjama shirt. He was shaking violently, completely tense and obviously scared of whatever he had dreamt.

Draco stood still in shock, but when he felt how strung up Potter was, he circled his arms around the man’s shoulders and held him gently.

“It’s all right, Potter. Everything is all right. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his thoughts going a mile an hour to find out what he should do now. When Draco tried to pull back to move Potter towards the sofa and get him something to drink, Potter merely tightened his hold on Draco’s shirt, so much so, that Draco actually started to worry his shirt might not survive the evening. With this in mind, and the fact that Potter must have been terrified to react in such a way, Draco just replaced his arms around Potter, wrapping them tightly and rocking them both softly back and forth.  
They stood like this for a solid ten minutes, until Potter took a few deep breaths and looked up slightly. It was odd to see Potter up close without either of them trying to fight. Draco noticed there were streaks of tears across Potter’s cheeks and his eyes were red-rimmed. It must have been a terrible dream.

“I’m going to move us to the sofa, if you’re all right with that. You can sit there, and I will bring you some Firewhiskey. Yes?” Draco offered. Potter just swallowed, still looking like a child who just saw their parents die. Sympathy filled Draco, and he smiled, while gently herding Potter to the forest green sofa in his living room. When Draco moved to disentangle himself to get Potter his promised drink, the man tugged on his wrist and looked up with such sadness and need, that Draco couldn’t leave him. He sat back down and collected Potter in his arms again.

It was silent in the room. Ophiuchus was –hopefully- sleeping peacefully in his own bed, and Potter didn’t make a sound. He buried his head in Draco’s chest, curling himself up to become a tiny pile of human, and pressed as close as possible. He had pulled his legs up on the sofa and had tucked them under him. Draco looked at him, truly looked, and saw nothing more than a man who had seen and heard too much to stay sane. He had met many people with nightmares, but never had he talked to someone who might dream of the same inhumane and ghastly horrid things he dreamt of.

Feeling Potter’s breath even out and his heartrate calm down, Draco realised he probably wouldn’t sleep anywhere else than on this sofa tonight. He very slowly released one hand to grab his wand, transfigured the sofa into something more like a bed, and summoned a blanket. Potter twisted at the loss of contact. Draco laid himself down, carefully pulling Potter along and covered them with the blanket. Potter kept trying to push himself closer, so Draco put Potter’s head on his arm and curled his own body around the smaller man. When Potter’s half unconscious body was still moving around, Draco enveloped his arm around Potter’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body and holding him as tight as Potter so evidently needed.

When Draco placed his cheek on the black mob of hair, he only had time to ponder the strangeness of their acquaintance, before he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

He woke up a few hours later. Potter had left the sofa, but it was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone for long. Draco was just about to move to his own bed, when he heard Potter in the kitchenette. It didn’t sound good. Draco stood up, padding to the kitchen, where Potter was bend over the sink, with a glass of water next to him.

“Are you ill?” Draco asked concernedly. Potter turned around in a flash, with wild eyes and flaring nostrils. Draco saw immediately that he had either had another nightmare, or was seeing things while awake.

“It’s all right, Potter, don’t you worry. It’s over now, it’s all over,” he said in his calmest voice, slowly making his way towards the man. Potter seemed to snap out of his daze, closed his eyes and sighed, before he nodded in acceptance.

Draco steered Potter back to the sofa, where they both laid down. The air was tense with awkwardness, or at least, that’s how Draco felt it. When Potter made a soft noise, Draco looked at him and saw Potter already gazing his way with watery eyes.

“Could you… Could you hold me again, like you did before?” Potter mumbled, swallowing his pride. Draco kept silent, pondering how scared Potter must be to ask something like this. Then, he started moving and curled himself around Potter’s smaller frame, resting his chin on top of Potter’s head. It was odd, hugging Potter close, especially since they were now fully awake and less influenced by sympathy or fears. Feeling Potter relax against him made it even stranger. But then again, Draco would never be able to refuse anything to a victim of bad dreams. He just couldn’t. Repeating this mantra in his head, Draco dozed away, dreaming of pain and fear.

The next morning, Draco woke with a shock. His back was facing Potter, and somewhere in their sleep, Potter had draped an arm around Draco’s waist. Scowling, Draco stood up and started dressing. In his kitchenette, with a cup of tea in his hand, he cast a Tempus charm and choked on the hot beverage.

It was 8.35 AM, and classes would start at nine.

“Merlin,” Draco uttered, while rushing to the sofa to wake Potter. When he checked the bedroom, Phi was gone. He was probably already in the Great Hall. Salazar, he would have seen Draco and Potter sleeping on the sofa!

“Potter. Potter, wake up, you fool!” Draco hissed, pulling the blanket of.  
“What? What’s going on?” Potter asked blearily.  
“Classes start in twenty-five minutes.”

Potter sat up immediately.  
“Goblins guts. I need to get dressed, thanks for helping me, bye!” Potter exclaimed, while moving to the door. Draco grabbed his arm and pulled him back.  
“As I said, classes start in twenty-five minutes. You don’t have time to change and have breakfast. Also, you are not leaving my room, dressed in only pyjamas.”

Potter blinked owlishly.  
“What do you suggest then, Malfoy?” he glared.

Draco churned his teeth in realisation what the only option was.  
“You’ll borrow some of my clothes,” he decided then. Potter balked, but Draco silenced him with a sharp hand movement. He went to the bedroom, followed by Potter, and pulled out an acceptable outfit. He hesitated for a moment, yet chose to pick a pair of underwear as well. He stuck out his hand for Potter to take over the clothes, but it was met by loud protests.

“Oh no. No way. No bloody way, Malfoy. I am not wearing your underwear. I’ll change after breakfast.”  
“May I remind you that classes start in twenty minutes? You don’t have time. Either wear this, or stink like a warthog the rest of the day. Your call,” Draco announced, standing up straight and holding out the clothes. Grumbling, and adamant to show his reluctance, Potter took the bundle and disappeared into the bathroom. Draco rolled his eyes, while quickly cleaning his room and making the beds. Potter reappeared soon enough, dressed in Draco’s Bordeaux robes, complete with shiny silver cuffs and buttons.

“I feel preposterous,” Potter complained, tugging at his sleeves.  
“Only because you’re not used to being dressed appropriately. And stop tugging your sleeves, it makes you look like a teenager.”

Potter scowled at Draco. “The robes are too big.”  
“Too large. And it’s not noticeable, as long as you push your shoulders back. Better. Come on, we should get to the Great Hall. Move.”

Draco ushered Potter to the hallway, so he could lock the door behind him and rushed towards breakfast. Potter was a mess next to him, with uncombed hair and continuously yawning. Together, they marched towards the Hall. When they arrived, there were only fifteen minutes left. Draco let Potter go in first, straightened his own robes, and followed. Scorpius’s eyes were bulging out of his sockets and Aquila was having trouble containing her laughter. Cassiopeia was told by Scorp and Albus what was funny, and she seemed to start crying from her mirth. Potter was striding to the High Table, quickly piling his plate with food and started eating. Draco rolled his eyes. So much for tact.

Draco gestured for Aquila and Ophiuchus to gather around at the Slytherin table. They were snickering, and most probably drawing attention, but Draco ignored it.

“Listen here -“ he started, but Cassie broke him off.  
“Is Professor Potter wearing your clothes?” she asked.  
“Hold on, dad is wearing your papa’s robes?” Albus cut in, unbelievingly. Scorpius started giggling again, which started Aquila off.

“Yes, he is, but –“ Draco tried again.  
“They’re your good robes as well, papa. You gave up your good robes to Professor Potter?” Aquila grinned.

Draco sighed. “All right, listen,” he demanded with the stern voice he only used when something really important was being addressed. His children silenced accordingly.  
“Professor Potter has trouble sleeping sometimes,” he told his children. Albus nodded gravely.  
“Yes, and he keeps us up too.” Cassie gazed over her shoulder at where Potter sat, with a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“That is unfortunate. Anyhow, he occasionally comes to me for help. And you, Cassiopeia, know that I will never refuse to help someone with bad dreams.” Cassie smiled sweetly.  
“Therefore, I let him in, and tried to help him to my best abilities. Regrettably, we woke up late, and Pot- Professor Potter wouldn’t have time to go to his own quarters before classes would start. I lend him my robes.”

Aquila elbowed Ophiuchus when he started giggling again.

“To summarize, nothing untoward has happened.” Cassie let out a disgusted sound at the remark.  
“However, if I hear you or any of your siblings–“ Draco pointed at Albus, “whispering as if something inappropriate happened, I will personally ensure that you will receive a very heavy punishment.”

His children, even Phi, smiled indulgently and promised they wouldn’t think anything of it. Albus swore the same. He even promised to try and kill any rumours other students might make up. Draco nodded in satisfaction.

When he left, Aquila had dragged Phi back to Matias and Cassie was searching through her bag, Scorpius and Albus bent towards each other.

“What does a very heavy punishment include?” Albus asked his best friend.  
Scorpius shrugged. “I’ve never had one, so I wouldn’t know.”  
“Would Cassiopeia know?”  
“I don’t think so. I believe papa has never handed out a very heavy punishment.”  
“Oh. Well, what does a regular punishment look like?” Albus continued.

With a frown, Scorpius answered, “To be quite honest with you, papa has never punished us at all. We just get a disappointed look and a lecture about responsibility or propriety or safety or something like that.”

Albus frowned as well. “It sounds like he is very determined about not letting this influence their strange connection.” His face cleared up quickly. “Perhaps he has some ulterior motives,” he smirked.

Scorpius broke into a grin. “Knowing papa, it isn’t a complete impossibility. Your father is gay, right?”  
“Yes!” Albus laughed. “Absolutely, no doubt about that. He is as gay as a rainbow unicorn with pink manes and braided tail. He said so himself.”

With balking laughter, Scorpius managed to make an approved sound and nodded. “Well, good. Papa won’t have to manipulate him out of the closet, then. I doubt he would have the patience for it,” he said when he had caught his breath again. They smiled at each other.

“I am really looking forward to becoming your brother, Scorpius,” Albus stated.   
“Me too, Albie. Me too.”

When Draco arrived at the High Table, with only five more minutes to spare, Potter was visibly clenching his jaw.

“Really, Harry, you look dashing. Are you sure there is no reason you are all dressed up today? You even walk straighter, like you feel better about yourself,” Professor Sprout ventured.  
“No, Professor, there is no reason,” Potter replied shortly. Draco hid his smile and started eating.  
“But Harry dear, is this a new style of yours, then? I would like that very much, you always used to dress so shabbily. I strongly approve of this style.”  
“Thank you, but it is no new style.” Draco smirked slightly at Sprout’s comment on Potter’s usual dress and caught the end of a murderous glare.  
“Your good robes then? Did you forget to do your laundry?” she asked him sternly.  
“My laundry is completely done, I assure you.”  
“I just don’t understand. You’re looking very well, you know. But, suit yourself.”

“Malfoy, get that bloody smug grin of your face, right this second, or I’ll wipe it off myself,” Potter growled. Draco turned to look at him with the blankest of expression, smug grin threatening to burst out.  
“What grin?” he asked innocently. Potter merely grumbled.  
“You know, Potter, I have decided that you can keep those robes,” Draco remarked lightly.

“No way. I am not keeping your robes. That is complete bollocks.”  
“Well, at least keep the underwear. I don’t feel inclined on wearing them ever again, so they’ll be better off with you.”  
“Do not ever mention the underwear again,” Potter gnarled. Draco’s mouth quirked. “And I am not keeping your robes.”  
“Yes, you are. It’s high time you got some decent clothing, even if you’ll never wear it. And really, Potter, what do you think will happen if anyone sees me wearing those robes in the future?”

Potter’s face blanched slightly. It was a satisfying result.  
“No one will remember I wore them. Not everyone is as much of a diva as you are.”  
“No, not everyone,” Draco amended. “But there only has to be one student who has a sharp eye for fashion, and everything will get crazy.”

“Say, Harry, were your robes expensive? They really are of an exceptional quality,” Sprout interrupted. Potter rolled his eyes, just a bit, and let out a short sigh.  
“I wouldn’t know, I always buy my clothes in big batches, and I don’t know the price of every single piece of clothing,” he told the professor. Draco was –admittedly- impressed with how fast Potter had come up with a believable lie. Or at least, it would have been believable if he wouldn’t wear such ratty clothing most of the time, but everyone always seemed to swallow every single syllable Potter uttered as complete and absolute truths.

“Oh, of course. Did you get it tailored? It fits you so nicely.”  
Was Sprout flirting with Potter, or something? Really, how much more flattering could one woman get? Obviously, Draco knew the robes were incredible, and made Potter look rather well, but Sprout could go with a bit less complimenting. And fondling the hemline of Potter’s sleeves.

“Of course I did. No use in buying such quality, if you don’t wear it accordingly.”

Well spoken, Potter. Perhaps he had more than dust in that thick head of his.

“Brilliant! You walk so straight in them, they must feel very comfortable.”  
Potter narrowed his eyes a bit, before admitting, “They are. Comfortable. More so than I expected.”

Draco bit back a bark of laughter. Look at that, Potter admitting that this kind of clothing could actually feel comfortable. Draco would raise him well after all.

“Very good. Well, I’m off to my classes. Have a good day, Harry, You too, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco smiled slightly at her, thinking that all the compliments might just have been Sprout’s Hufflepuff-y side.

“I’m going as well. Enjoy your day,” Potter mumbled, sounding put out. Then, he frowned and tilted his head like a confused puppy.  
“And thanks, I suppose. For – well, for tonight and this morning and all of it.” He seemed to have to force the words out, but Draco didn’t mind. He had enjoyed his breakfast immensely, it was totally worth the hurry and humiliation before his children’s eyes.

“Don’t mention it. And I mean that quite literally,” he responded. Potter just glared and stalked away. The Great Hall was practically empty, just a few NEWTs-candidates with a free first period, and Draco decided he should run to the Potions classroom as well. He would eat an apple after the first class if he got hungry.

During his first lesson, some girls were continuously giggling about an apparently endlessly fascinating subject. Draco barely suppressed his constant eye rolls. When he caught a few sentences, he started to get really annoyed, though.

“Did you see Professor Potter this morning?” one girl asked.  
“Oh yes! He looked so handsome!” the second replied.  
“And Gryffindor red, too,” a third giggled. Draco saw now that they were all Gryffindors.  
“He is amazing. I wished guys of our age looked and dressed like that, as well,” the second one sighed sadly. Draco thought it was pathetic that she wished such a thing, because Potter never dressed well; it were Draco’s robes.

“You’ve got a massive crush on him, don’t you?” the first mentioned teasingly. The second, the girl with the crush, blushed furiously, but nodded anyway.  
“Who wouldn’t!” the third exclaimed in a whisper. “He is stunning, and brave, too. You heard the stories of how he fought. He saved so many!”  
All three giggled again. “Merlin, if only he was our age,” the first one mourned.  
“If he was, I would have first rights,” was the demand of the girl with the crush.  
“Sure, sure,” the others gave in. “But now, all we can do, is be the best students he has ever had, so he’ll notice us,” the third winked.  
“Yes! I’ve been working my ass off to get this assignment right, I’ve spent hours in the library!”

Just when Draco was about to cut in, because the Potions classroom was really no place to talk about how handsome and stunning and well-dressed Potter was, a fourth girl who had been silently working on her essay, looked up and sighed whole-heartedly.

“Really, girls, can you stop talking about him? Please?” she asked. She was rather beautiful, with blonde locks. Draco remembered she was always very quiet in class, and averagely good. The typical student one wouldn’t remember. But Draco thought he recognised her from something.

The girl continued. “He is my uncle. It’s disturbing to hear you swoon over him, honestly. Just… stop.”

It clicked. If Draco’s guess was right, this was Dominique, middle child of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Poor girl, having friends who were fawning over her uncle. It must be terrible.

“But he’s just so –“ the girl with the crush started.  
“No. No, I don’t want to hear it. He is nothing. He is a black-haired person who happens to have killed Voldemort. Nothing more. Nothing special,” Dominique stated firmly. Her friends mumbled some things, but kept quiet after that. When Dominique caught Draco looking at her, he nodded and turned away, to a student who needed his help.

It was interesting, to see the reactions people had on a well-dressed Potter. Of course, people had always drooled over the Boy-Who-Lived and the Saviour of the Wizarding World. But now, wearing robes of superior quality, that fitted well enough and made him walk with a straight back, Potter seemed to be irresistible, especially to those hormone-driven teenage girls who were only just discovering boys.

It made Draco want to experiment whether the adoration could be achieved by well-tailored robes, or whether it was just this pair. Perhaps the colour would play a part in it as well. The Bordeaux red matched well with Potter’s darker skin and black hair. It made him look strong, powerful. Like the Auror he used to be. A very dark green, something like jade or hunter green, would fit him well. Every dark colour would be good, Draco reckoned. Perhaps a deep shade of orange even. It would make Potter look like dawn.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Draco frowned. Potter should really start wearing better robes. But in any case, Draco should focus on his lessons. His students were working diligently, but there might be questions. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about how to improve Potter’s looks, even though they were horrible, usually. He should be thinking about potions and teaching.

Dominique was frowning at her parchment and seemed like she had no idea what else she should do. Then, she turned around and softly asked the girl behind her a question. It was a red-headed girl, definitely a Weasley. Draco was sure it was Molly Weasley, the daughter of Percy. They whispered a bit, until Dominique’s face cleared in understanding and she smiled gratefully. Molly nodded in acknowledgement. She was very clearly Percy’s daughter, with the same pinched expression and slightly turned up nose. It wasn’t on purpose, probably, because her entire personality wasn’t arrogant or proud. She always worked very hard in class, and her assignments belonged to the top of the class. She was all right, for a Weasley.

“I had never thought I would have to fight for a girl’s attention with a professor,” a guy said mournfully to his friend. The latter laughed loudly.  
“Bloody Harry Potter. I almost want to challenge him, but I don’t think I would survive. Too bad. Perhaps if I would win, those girls would like me for my bravery.”  
“I don’t think girls would ever like you, brave or not. Your looks ruin every chance you would every get.”  
“You’re such a good friend,” the boy said sincerely. “Your looks are so bad, they make me appear better. Thanks for that.”  
“You’re welcome. Now bugger off.”

They laughed together.

Draco was jealous, sort of. When he was in his seventh year, he couldn’t worry about girls liking him or not. The only girl who liked him at the time, was Pansy, and she didn’t really count. But in seventh year, even if Pansy counted as a girl who liked him, nothing would come of it. The war had had an incredible impact on his life. He hadn’t had the kind of childhood and puberty others had. He had tried to find those kind of experiences in his later years, but his father had always stopped him before things would get too odd. He had always been the Malfoy heir, the boy who would have to take care of the entire estate and all the assets. The Malfoy reputation shouldn’t get any worse than it already was. And Draco would have to take care of that.

And he’s trying to. Just not in the way his father wanted. Not by investing in well-chosen organisations, and sucking up to the right people. Not by moulding himself into the same kind of Malfoy his father had been. Draco would rather be someone people trusted, instead of feared. He didn’t exactly believe in ruling by fear. He had seen what came of that technique, and it wasn’t pretty.

His ambitions were still the same. Draco still liked power, attention, people envying him. That was just how he was, and he was not going to change that. Now, he just realised that power wasn’t everything, and it was good enough if people trusted him and asked for his advice. Sometimes, the ugly green monster of jealousy would crawl up, of course it would, but Draco refused to listen to it.

His life was good. It really was. He had four beautiful children and a couple of very loyal friends. And as much as Draco liked his bit of power, he would never jeopardise the position he was in, now. He would never put his friends on the spot, like they had been in the war. He would never let his children make decisions he had had to make.

Draco had vowed this to himself some fourteen years ago, when Astoria got pregnant, and he had lived up to it ever since. So yes, he was jealous at the easy childhood his students had, but dear Merlin, was he happy for them at the same time.


	9. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! I'm so so sorry for being late, but last few weeks I was too tired to spend my evenings writing. From now on, I'll try to upload every Saturday. Please leave comments if you have something to say, because I love reading what you think. Thanks!!

After classes, Theresia Zarnel walked into Draco’s classroom and sat down at a table in the front, while Draco was finishing up a bit of organising. When he was done, he went to sit at his own desk and looked expectantly at Zarnel. The girl smiled politely.

“I was wondering whether you could tell me something about what the project would be. And when I should be here to help you. And what is expected of me,” she announced. Draco nodded.  
“Very good. You should know that there will be no extensive theoretical research. We are going to work out a hypothesis. We can meet up at Fridays, after classes. I assume you never do any homework on Fridays?”

Zarnel shook her head with a grin on her face. “You assume correctly. So am I to understand we are just going to be… brewing?”  
“Yes.” Draco took satisfaction in Zarnel’s surprised expression.  
“As you may know, Neville Longbottom works in the greenhouses to do some kind of research. Our project would be a follow-up on that. Do you know what he is doing?”

With a hum, Zarnel answered in the negative.

“Well, he is researching how the amount of magic around a plant can affect its potency and fertility. He has found out that many plants have different reactions to different amounts of magic. For example, if they are grown in a climate with the right amounts, they can be less susceptible to diseases, and may even have stronger effects. My research now, will be to test what kind of influence those adapted plants can have in potions.”

Zarnel nodded thoughtfully. “I’d say one would need less of the ingredient to make the potion work,” she stated, half askingly.  
“Yes, I would say the same. But there is something else. You know how certain enhancers can be illegal and dangerous?” Zarnel nodded again.  
“I thought that perhaps with stronger plants, those enhancers aren’t necessary anymore. Sleeping Draught is made addictive by the enhancers in it, and if there are no enhancers, it might not be addictive anymore. You see where I’m going?”  
“Without enhancers, there are many more potions we can use. Healing might become easier, because limits for medical potions wouldn’t exist,” she said excitedly. Draco confirmed it with a small smile.

“So, we’ll be brewing all kinds of potions, with the plants Neville has grown. And we’ll skip the use of enhancers. With a few spells that can be created rather easily by some people Neville knows, we can test whether the potion has the same effect as those with enhancers.”  
Zarnel’s eyes shone with enthusiasm, but she kept her face blank.  
“And why do you need me?”  
“Because, Ms. Zarnel, I could use an extra pair of skilled hands. The potions we’ll be making, can be difficult and even dangerous if done wrong. Precision and complete concentration will be necessary. Speed can also be important. I’ve seen you make two potions, one of which was a Mastery potion, in one lesson. But of course, I could just choose an actual Mastery student, instead of you. I’m not the one who would lose.”

Zarnel bit her lip, but nodded after a while. “All right. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. When will we start?”  
“Next week. And, if I may make a request, I’d rather not have you talking about this with everyone. Mr. Longbottom knows about it, of course, but I don’t want to know what the Head Mistress or Professor Sprout would say if they found out. So, try to keep it quiet, yes?”

With a bright smile she tried to tamp down, Zarnel affirmed it and left the room. Draco leaned back in his chair and picked up a quill and some parchment. Time to write to those Curse Breaker friends of Neville. 

When dinner’s over and Draco was relaxing in his apartment –Ophiuchus was spending time with Aquila in the Owlery, someone knocked on his door. It turned out to be Neville, carrying a good brand of Butterbeer.

“Evening, Draco. Any time to spend with a poor friend?” he asked cheerfully. “I know Butterbeer isn’t really your taste, but we’re professors after all, and we’re supposed to be responsible. So I brought Butterbeer, and you’re going to enjoy it. If you have time, that is.”

Draco opened his door further in invitation. “Come in. Butterbeer is fine, and if your conversational skills are even worse than usual, I’ve got some Firewhiskey of myself. Make yourself comfortable,” he nodded. Neville grinned and sank down on the sofa, summoning two tumblers and pouring the Butterbeer in them. He winked at Draco, offered the fullest glass and took a sip from his own.

“Why are you grinning, Neville? I don’t trust it.”  
“You don’t trust anything and anyone, I know, Draco. Just live a little.”  
“I’m not a Gryffindor and I never will be. I don’t just live a little. I think about what I do, before I do it.”  
“At least Gryffindors have fun,” Neville dared Draco, while taking a challenging sip. Draco narrowed his eyes at that.   
“I’m a father of four, Neville, dear. I am not going to get drunk.”  
“That’s not what I’m asking. I explained why I brought Butterbeer instead of Firewhiskey. Do you think I’d want you to get drunk?”

Draco took a careful sip, while looking straight at Neville. The latter just broadened his grin and winked again. Swallowing, Draco noticed a different taste in his drink and frowned suspiciously.

“What did you put in this, Longbottom?” he practically growled. Neville put on some innocent face, smiling sweetly and batting his eyelashes.  
“Merely some Veritaserum I found in your cupboards. I wanted to ask you some personal questions and be sure you were honest. Very Slytherin of me, don’t you think?”

Draco took a deep breath, desperately searching for something to say. Grasping at his self-control and facial mask, he placed down his glass of Butterbeer and tilted his chin up. He was more than happy to have only taken one sip, because at least the babbling wouldn’t be so terrible.

“How much did you put in it?” he asked in a soft tone, but with slightly more ice in it than usual.  
“Enough to make it work properly with only one sip. I know you’re not stupid, Draco. I know you’d notice there was something wrong with it. But unfortunately for you, you will be completely under the serum’s influence within a few minutes.”

Draco was fumbling for words again. He was incredibly angry with Neville, but for the half-Hufflepuff to do something this drastic, he must really want to talk honestly.

“What did you want to talk about?” he forced out eventually. Neville patted the seat next to him, which Draco took, and looked at the ceiling, as if gathering the courage to ask a certain question.

“Draco,” Neville started carefully. “You are gay, right?”  
This made Draco chuckle a bit, and he didn’t even bite back the words the Veritaserum forced him to say.  
“If by gay, you mean bisexual, then yes. I would have told you that without Veritaserum, though.”

“I know. However, you wouldn’t want to answer the rest of my questions.”  
“All right then,” Draco sighed, slowly sinking down on the other side of the sofa. “What are your questions?”  
Neville seemed to brighten and took an extra sip of his drink. “Well, I was wondering how it works.”  
“You really want the ins and outs?” Draco asked incredibly. He was not looking forward to a conversation like that.

“NO!” Neville shrieked, which made Draco smirk. “Harry’s told me too much about that already. I meant how you find out you’re gay.”

“You aren’t gay, are you, Neville?” Draco ventured carefully. Neville shook his head with a slight smile on his face.  
“No, I’m not. I’m rather happy with Hannah, to be honest. But I’ve never really understood how you can find out. I mean, did you fall in love with a guy, once?”

“No, I haven’t,” the Veritaserum forced Draco to say, before he had fully comprehended the question. “I’ve never fallen in love with anyone, ever,” he added afterwards. Neville’s expression grew slightly pitiful, but he concealed it well enough for Draco to let it slide.

“But how do you find out, then? If you’re not in love with a guy?”  
“Well, Neville dear, at a certain moment, one might see a man and find him attractive.”  
“But if you’re bisexual, how do you realise it’s not an objective judgment, but… something else?”

Draco thought about it, but let the Veritaserum speak eventually. “I don’t know. It’s… It might depend on how critically one examines their behaviour. And many bisexuals have a preference for the male or female body. It’s not always a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Oh,” Neville responded. After a while, he added, “What about you? What’s your preference?”  
Draco slightly bit his tongue to fight the words, but he knew what was coming and refused to be ashamed of it. “I prefer men,” he murmured.

“Ooh, so I’ve got a chance with you?” Neville snickered.  
“No,” Draco stated. He smirked when he saw Neville’s face fall into an offended grimace.  
“Even if you were my type, I won’t ever like someone who I thought of as beneath me, when I was younger.”  
Neville frowned. “I don’t understand.”  
Draco sighed and cringed at the words that came out of his mouth. “As you know very well, I bullied at Hogwarts. I used to think those people were unworthy of me. And I feel so guilty about that time, that I won’t ever be able to fall in love with them. It’s a barrier that keeps me from falling.”

“I think I know why you don’t like Veritaserum,” Neville joked, to lighten the tension. Draco quirked his mouth slightly. “But you bullied almost everyone. Do you mean you’ll never fall in love with anyone from Hogwarts?”  
“No. I didn’t bully Slytherins, while I definitely thought them below me. And I bullied Potter, but I never thought I was better than him. With him, I was merely jealous. And angry. And I didn’t like the feeling he was better than me.”

Neville kept silent, probably to spare Draco the humiliation of more babbling. A full minute passed between them, trying not to get eye contact, Draco sipping from a summoned glass of water, having poured the Butterbeer in the sink.

“So…” Neville started slowly. “If I’m not your type… What is?”  
Draco laughed. “I don’t –,” he started, but the Veritaserum didn’t let him continue. He frowned, trying various way to say that he didn’t know his type. Neville just chuckled, but it resulted in a full-out bellow.

“Clearly, you do know your type. So tell me. What’s your type, Draco?”  
“I guess… I like them athletic…” he said.  
“Who doesn’t?” Neville exclaimed, interrupting Draco.  
“Ehm, well, I like it when I can race against them, or play Quidditch, or something. Just… when they’re sporty. And I like them somewhat shorter than me.”  
“Obviously. You want to look down on everyone, even your partner,” Neville scolded softly. Draco shook his head.  
“No, no, it’s not that. Just, when they’re shorter than me, I feel like I ought to protect them, you know. Care for them. I like that. To protect my partner, whoever he is.”

This statement was met with wide eyes and a soft expression.  
“I have gotten to know you rather well, lately. But I hadn’t expected this,” Neville told Draco. The latter shrugged.  
“I’m raising four children on my own. Yes, I like caring for people I love. And I don’t use that word often, but I hope that one day, I might find someone outside my circle of relatives, where I can say it and mean it.”

“You’re a sap,” Neville declared, surprised. “Inside that little wall of stone and ice and armour you’ve built around you, is the softest and most romantic person I’ve ever met!”  
Draco scowled, but bit down the urge to answer.

“What else, about that type of yours? What else do you like?”  
“I want someone who can handle my occasional sarcastic remarks.”  
“Someone who’s not afraid of your constant flow of insults,” Neville reworded dryly, and Draco smirked in response.

“And I’m begging Merlin that the hypothetical guy we’re talking about, knows how to deal with children. And doesn’t mind me having them, of course. He shouldn’t be prejudiced, and if I’m really lucky, I might even find someone who doesn’t tolerate prejudice against Slytherins.”

Draco was on a roll, and he wasn’t to be stopped. Neville just listened and nodded at the right moments.

“I want a guy who’s strong enough to deal with the hate against me and my family. Someone who would protect my children with his life, even if they’re not his own flesh and blood. But he also should be able to get along with my parents. I know they might not be worth anything in the public eye, but they’re still my parents. I want him to be at least civil with them, if not friendly. Oh, and I almost forgot: all is well if he can get along with my parents, but please don’t let him be a weak cloth around them. My father especially, that hypothetical guy should be able to fight my father on important matters. And he should be able to fight me on important matters.”

Neville smiled a secret smile, thinking Draco didn’t notice how he seemed a bit far away and too calculating for Draco’s comfort. 

“That sounds like a lot of demands,” Neville remarked.  
“Yes. And I don’t know how well it would go if he were to be a Slytherin as well. I don’t know if my children would be able to live with two Slytherin parents. A Ravenclaw would always work well, but Cassie would appreciate a Gryffindor.” Draco wrinkled his nose. “Unfortunately, I don’t think any Gryffindor would be stupid enough to consider me.”

It went silent again. Draco inwardly winced at everything he just said.

“It sounds like you’re pretty sure it’ll be a man,” Neville said softly. Draco shrugged.  
“We were talking about our ideal partner, right? My ideal partner is male.”  
Neville opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but refrained.  
“Just spit it out,” Draco sighed.

“It also almost sounds like…” Neville started carefully. “Like you’ve got your eye on someone.”  
Draco guffawed inelegantly. “What?”  
“Well, it was very specific. Very… what’s the word… describing.”  
“No. No, I wasn’t telling you who I like. You heard the Veritaserum, I’ve never been in love with someone before.”

Neville’s eyes narrowed. “Draco, answer me this. Do you fancy someone now?”  
“N-. N-. I do no-. Salazar on a stick!” Draco stood up and gulped down his glass of water. Feeling it was not enough, he summoned the Firewhiskey from his cupboards, the one he always saved for Potter’s nightmare nights, and filled his tumbler with the amber liquid.

“Do you know who it is?” Neville tried.  
“No,” Draco answered between two swigs.  
“Okay. Do you want me to give you some time alone?”  
“Yes.”  
“All right. I’ll go now. Come to me when you really get distressed, yeah?”  
“We’ll see.”

The door clicked shut behind Neville, and Draco was alone. It was half past eight, and Ophiuchus should be upstairs in a minute, probably followed by Cassiopeia for her goodnight-kiss and possibly Scorpius and Aquila as well, to be the big siblings they always want to be. Maybe Albus would even tag along. All in all, Draco had to get himself together, and finding out who this mystery guy was, could wait to a later moment. Now, the door was flying open and revealed the five previously named children.

“Papa, can I stay up late today?”  
“Can you sing a song for us?”  
“Albus doesn’t understand this part about the new Potions chapter –“  
“What’s the worth of a corporeal Patronus over an incorporeal one?”  
“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.”

They all fell silent when they saw Draco’s pale face.  
“Anything wrong, papa?” Cassie asked. Draco shook his head.  
“No, I’m just not feeling incredibly well. But to respond to all of you, no, no, I will explain it tomorrow, I will explain that tomorrow as well, good evening Albus. Respectively.”

Albus chuckled, but was silenced by Scorpius’ elbows in his side.

“Do we need to make you some tea?” Scorpius offered.  
“No, thank you, love. I’m fine, really. Ophiuchus, go to the bedroom and change, I’ll come say goodnight in a second.” Phi lingered a bit longer, but one stern look from Draco made him stomp to his bed to change. Cassie gave Draco a big hug, which took a bit longer than usual, and charged out of the apartment to her own dorms. Aquila and Scorpius sat down on the sofa, Albus stood awkwardly behind Scorp.

“Papa, will you tell us what’s wrong?” Aquila asked softly.  
“I can go, if you want,” Albus interjected quickly.  
“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. I just had a conversation with Neville, but everything’s just the same. Don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t convincing, and he knew it. Still, he knew his children would stop asking questions for now. Aquila might come back on it later, but Scorpius wouldn’t ask a thing anymore. He would try to find out through his manipulating tricks, but Draco was the Prince of Slytherin. No one could out-Slytherin him.

“We’ll be going as well, papa. I have some homework to catch up on, and I believe Aquila was going to do a Witches’ chess game in the Ravenclaw Tower. Right, ‘Quil?” Aquila nodded at her brother. They both hugged Draco tight and left as quickly as they had arrived. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve such incredible children, while saying goodnight to his youngest.

He wasn’t alone for long, though. The next visitor was knocking on Draco’s door, and this time, the rhythm was familiar, welcome and expected.

“Draco darling!” Pansy greeted enthusiastically. Blaise followed her inside and gave Draco some exuberant kisses. Draco smiled at their predictive behaviour and poured glasses of Firewhiskey for his guests; he would stick to water for now.

“How are you, dear?” Blaise asked with the tender warmness that always creeped through his aloof voice. Draco ushered them to his sofa and sat down next to them.  
“Very well, thank you. And you?” he returned politely. Pansy waved his manners away.  
“None of that now. We want to hear all about your new job. The apartment is very charming. And I believe the dungeons are redone?”  
Blaise nodded eagerly at Pansy’s suggestion to talk about Draco following in Severus’ footsteps.

“The job is fantastic, I’ll give you that. Remember how much I loved explaining Potions to you guys? It’s like that, only now, people are actually listening to me.” Pansy laughed heartily.  
“They just pretend to listen, because you’re grading them.”  
“True. But I have students who are genuinely interested, who come to me after class to ask some additional questions. I even have an apprentice,” Draco smirked. At Pansy and Blaise’s surprised looks, he sank further into the cushions and started telling them of Neville’s research and Draco’s own experiments.

“So, you’re friends with Longbottom and Potter, now?” Blaise asked, not unfriendly, but also unsure what he should think of it.  
“Well, friends might be a big word. Neville and I get along very well, we spend a lot of time together, and Cassie trusts him. Potter… Potter isn’t my friend exactly. It’s merely a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Pansy’s raised eyebrow made Blaise giggle.

“I don’t drool over him like most people do. I’m not afraid to tell him how stupid he is being. And in return, he helps me protect my little snakes. Though no one knows about that, just me and McGonagall. I wrote you about Terence and Priscus, at the start of this year, right?”

The conversation flowed easily, like it had always done between the three of them. Even during the war, it had been easy enough to find topics that either calmed them or distracted them from the awful letters they received every day. That was the reason why Pansy and Blaise became Draco’s friends, instead of Slytherin minions. They were also not afraid to call him out on his mistakes, but were raised with enough sophistication to appease Draco’s father’s sensibilities, and so, Draco’s demands.

“How are your children doing? Making friends? Oh, about Phi, doesn’t he have boring days?” Blaise inquired.  
“They’re fine. You know how close Scorp and Albus are, and about Matias, that friend of Aquila. Cassie’s difficult, but she always has been. She’s never alone when she doesn’t want to be, but she doesn’t have actual friends, either. I think that’s just her self-protection, though. And Ophiuchus is having lots of fun. The professors adore him, most students indulge him, and he loves sitting in on some classes. Sometimes, he won’t sleep at night, because he wants to read my Potions books. He’s doing fantastic.” Draco couldn’t help the light that took over his eyes when talking about his children.

“Aquila and Matias aren’t secretly dating?” Pansy teased. Draco narrowed his eyes at her.  
“Don’t you dare mention such a thing. My precious Aquila won’t be sullied by any man. She’ll always stay pure,” he stated dramatically.  
“And Cassie won’t?”  
“You know Cass. She’ll probably make one huge mistake because she thinks that is what she’s supposed to do, and then realise how much better her life could be if she followed her own heart. She’ll be alright.”  
“Doesn’t Scorpius have a love life, yet?” Blaise wondered.  
“That is a very good question, Blaise,” Pansy nodded. “I remember how you used to be a catch, and since he’s so much like you…”

Draco grimaced. “You were the only one who thought I was a catch, Pansy-poo.” Pansy scowled at the ancient nickname. “But no, I don’t think he has much of a love life. He’s far too obsessed with the Potter kid.”

“As I said, since he is so much like you…” Pansy said dryly. Blaise giggled. Draco took the Firewhiskey away from him with a pointed look and sneered at Pansy.  
“I was not obsessed with Potter. You know I tried to find out what he was up to, so I could tell my father about it,” Draco defended himself. Pansy merely raised an eyebrow, a poor resemblance of Draco’s impressive unimpressed looks.

“Yes, I remember, Dragon boy. ‘Oh, father, he wore the ugliest robes. They didn’t match his looks at all,’” Pansy imitated Draco with a high-pitched, whiny voice.  
“’Everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick,’” Blaise added, doubling over in laughter. “Yes, I’m sure you just wanted to update your father on Potter’s whereabouts, because that’s what good boys do, don’t they? And if a few compliments slip through, then, whoops, you misspoke.”

Draco hated his friends. He hated them. They were annoying and rude and couldn’t let the past go.

“Alright, yes, fine, I was stupid when I was younger. Luckily, the two of you care for me enough to not make fun of reliving my worst moments,” he said pointedly, a bit too close to begging for his own liking.

“Oh, Draco-dear, you still are stupid,” Pansy answered soothingly. “Mostly because you actually think we would ever stop making fun of your Hogwarts days.”  
“There are several moments I can use to make fun of you, Peter Pansy,” Draco shot back.  
“But you won’t. Because you looooove me,” Pansy singsonged. Blaise joined her, and together they sang an awful song about friendship and love and whatnot. Draco was sure it wasn’t even a real song, that they made it up as they went.

“You two are awful. I hate you both and you will never see my children again if you continue,” he threatened. Pansy and Blaise fell silent immediately, blinking up at him in perfect innocence.

“I think we should honour the wishes of the Prince of Slytherin,” Blaise fake-whispered to his partner in crime.  
“Sounds like a plan. How should we do it? Mention how annoying Potter is, in hopes that Draco starts one of his rants and forgets about his audience?”  
Blaise eyed Draco with suspicion. “I think we’re past that stage. If we would hate on Potter now, Draco would defend the black-haired hero. They’re friends, have you heard?”  
“I heard, yes. Too bad though. Is there any other way to distract our most beloved friend?”  
“What about a song?” Blaise yelled, eyes sparkling. Draco was glad he had a constant Silencing Charm around his living room, so Phi wouldn’t wake up.

“Yes!” Pansy agreed. “Absolutely! Draco, would you sing –“

She was broken off by a rushed knock on the door and a crash in the hallway outside of Draco’s apartment. Draco frowned, looked at the clock that said ten PM, and stood up, apologising to his friends.

“Potter,” Draco greeted the man on the other side of the door. Potter looked like he had made an effort to be as unkempt as possible and smiled wearily.  
“Hi. Can I come in?” he asked softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question: 
> 
> What country do you think I'm from? Or what continent, or anything?


	10. Old Friends, New Friends and Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I just wrote an entire chapter in one day. I guess I was inspired. And I still owed you a chapter, because I had skipped one. Perhaps even two. Anyways, a new chapter. Yay!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments, I really really really really really like you. I try to respond as much as possible, but in case I haven't resplied to your comment: THANK YOU YOU ARE AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU.

Draco frowned at Potter.

“I have guests over, and I’m not sure you would want to talk to them,” he said apologetically. Potter’s face fell.

“Who are they, then?”  
“Blaise. And Pansy.”

It was silent for a few seconds.

“I just had a nightmare,” Potter whispered, curling in on himself. Draco looked him over and frowned some more.

“It’s ten. There is no way you have already fallen asleep and woken up from a nightmare.” Maybe Draco was being difficult on purpose, he knew. Maybe he was being a bit arseholish. But he was really afraid of what might happen if Potter and Pansy were together in the same room for an extended period of time. 

“Well, I-“ Potter started, visibly searching for something to say. “I’m afraid I’ll get nightmares tonight. I feel ruffled.”

“You don’t have the haunted look you always have when you’re afraid you might get nightmares,” Draco observed. When Potter seemed a bit defeated, Draco looked him over once more, until realisation hit him.

“Potter… you do know you’re allowed to come here, even if you don’t have a nightmare, right? Even if you just want to talk. Or have a fun night.”  
“So, if I want to come in now, you don’t mind?” Potter challenged. Draco sighed in response and opened the door a bit wider.

“One rule: don’t you dare upset either one of them, Potter. I still know many Dark curses and I will use them if I feel it’s the right thing to do.”

Potter smiled brightly. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I know you’d rather kill me and end up in Azkaban than see any of your friends or family hurt. And I admire that, I do. If anything goes wrong, I’ll leave immediately.”

Draco nodded to himself when he let Potter in, and moved to the kitchenette to make Potter’s standard Firewhiskey on the rocks, while Potter himself walked into the living room. Draco saw Pansy stand up with lightning speed. She locked eyes with Potter and tension rapidly build. Draco was about to send Potter on his way, when the two offered their hands at the same time. Blaise, tipsy as he was, giggled, which made Pansy and Potter relax as they shook hands.

“Ms. Parkinson,” Potter greeted.  
“Call me Pansy, please. We Slytherins have tried to stop calling each other by our last names,” Pansy smiled politely.  
“Only if you call me Harry.”

And so, Pansy and Potter seemed to be comfortable around each other, to Draco’s major surprise. Potter turned to greet the other as well, but was beat to it by an exuberant Blaise who was also a bit drunk.

“Harry, my man! Long time no see! Tell us everything that’s happened, we’re curious!” he yelled, as he wrapped Potter in a big hug. Potter, to his credit, didn’t even hesitate before returning the sentiment with a grin and uttered some sincere-sounding words of interest as well.

When Draco returned with Potter’s Firewhiskey, and Potter took it with a grateful smile while continuing his conversation with Blaise, Pansy caught Draco’s eye and raised her eyebrow questioningly. Draco sat down next to Potter, not leaving Pansy’s gaze.

“You drink your whiskey on the rocks?” she asked Potter sweetly.  
“Ah yes. I’ve had some bad experiences with straight Firewhiskey,” Potter admitted sheepishly. “I usually chug them down without realising the amount of alcohol in it.”  
“Rooky mistakes,” Blaise grinned.  
“So Draco knows your preferences?” Pansy continued, sounding innocent. Draco recognised the glint in her eyes though, and warned her with an icy glare.

“Yes, he does,” Potter started uncertainly. “He helps me when I have nightmares, so he knows how I take my drinks.” His voice was careful, as if he wasn’t sure whether he could trust the Slytherins with this information. He also looked at Draco with something of confusion, probably wondering why Draco hadn’t shared this weakness yet.

Pansy’s eyes widened in shocked realisation.

“Oh, of course! I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean anything with it. He’s good with nightmares, though, isn’t he?”

This time, Potter was the one who seemed surprised.  
“Yeah, he is. He’s actually able to calm me down, and no one else has done that before. Has he helped you too?”  
“Helped us?” Blaise laughed. “Merlin, he saved us. All of the Slytherins!”

No. They weren’t going to have this conversation. Draco said so, clearly and decidedly, but Blaise rolled his eyes.

“What? Why, what do you mean?” Potter asked, puzzled.

Ignoring Draco’s looks, Pansy turned to look at Potter and said, “Back in our Hogwarts days, many of us had nightmares. Especially in sixth and seventh year. He helped us every single night. In seventh year, he didn’t even sleep at all anymore, just because he wanted to be sure the rest of us were alright.”

Blaise nodded. “At first, it was just the guys whose father were in Voldemort’s inner circle: Lucius, Goyle, Crabbe, the lot. Draco held them, calmed them, and then, let them sleep in his bed. But then, there were girls who overheard their parents talking. They couldn’t get in the boys dorms, obviously. So, Draco stayed every night in the common room, where everyone could find him.”

“He slept in the most uncomfortable chairs. Can you imagine? Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Pansy smiled fondly.  
“Yeah,” Potter breathed. He didn’t look at Draco, and Draco only looked at the far wall behind Pansy. He didn’t want to relive those nights.

“And half-way sixth year, it got bad. No one really slept anymore. So we all had our mattresses and pillows on the floor in the common room. It was one massive bedroom for everyone. Draco moved around and calmed people before the nightmare woke them up. He didn’t care for his own sleep,” Pansy continued softly, flicking her gaze between Potter and Draco.

“So that’s why you looked so tired? You didn’t sleep? Not just the Vanishing Cabinet, but also this?” Potter ventured. Draco shook his head, but Pansy answered for him, knowing that Draco wouldn’t utter a word.  
“There were more important things he had to worry about. The Cabinet was one of his lesser worries.”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Potter said after a while of silence. “Why would everyone go to Malfoy? Wouldn’t you feel safer with friends if you have a nightmare?”

Blaise looked offended, “You came to him as well, didn’t you?” but Pansy’s expression softened immensely.

“Everyone did that in the beginning, yes,” she started. Draco found her gaze, wanting to know the answer just as badly as Potter did. He hadn’t ever understand, either.

“But if you go to friends and tell them your worst nightmares… You’ll feed their fears, and give them more to worry about, more bad dreams to be afraid of.”  
“Then why go to Malfoy? Surely, his nightmares would be worsened as well.”

Pansy’s gaze swooped to Draco and she tried to hide her pity behind a sympathetic mask.

“Because his nightmares are always worse, always scarier, always better informed. It’s practically impossible to frighten him with your fears.”

Potter’s mouth fell open when he understood what Pansy had said. He attempted to catch Draco’s eyes, but Draco strategically looked away.

“His father sent him letters and photos. He was supposed to burn the letters, but tell the rest of us what was said. He did that, of course, but he filtered the information he passed on. He told us enough for us to know what our parents were asking about, but left out the macabre details of raids and attacks. He wasn’t allowed to show the pictures to anyone, but he had to look at them, memorise them and keep them. Draco knew everything, saw everything through the pictures or because he had been present. His nightmares couldn’t get any worse. We made them up, the nightmares, we imagined most things. He replayed what he had seen and heard and sometimes, what he had done.”

“Pans, you should tell the story of Rissa May,” Blaise added hoarsely.  
“No!” Draco burst, loudly. “No, you will not. I don’t want you to. I don’t want to hear it.”

Pansy fiddled with the hem of her blouse, but never once looked away from Draco’s sneer. “Then you’ll go somewhere else, because I am going to tell the story.”  
“No, you will not. Why would you want to?”  
“Harry has to know.”  
“No, he doesn’t. It is not important.”  
“He needs to know in order to even remotely understand you, Draco.”  
“There isn’t a reason for him to understand me.”

Pansy sent him an unreadable gaze.  
“I think there is.”

Their verbal battle had come to an end, but their eyes kept speaking for them. Draco knew Pansy wasn’t impressed with Draco’s hateful looks anymore, and usually he was glad for that, but right now, he wished he still had the power over her like he had in fourth year. In the end, Potter decided for them.

“I don’t need to hear it. If Malfoy doesn’t want me to know, then I don’t need to know,” he said.  
Pansy gave up, knowing when she had to stop pushing Draco’s limits.  
“Another time then,” she assented.  
“Another time. When Malfoy has given his permission.”  
Pansy didn’t respond to that, but changed the subject.

“So, Harry, tell us about your new job. You’re teaching Defense, aren’t you?” Pansy inquired.  
Potter immediately sat up straighter. “Yes, yes, I am. I love it. It’s always been my favourite course, and I get to teach students some really interesting stuff. I’m trying to be better than most of our DADA teachers.”  
“Not very hard, I must say,” Blaise quipped. Potter laughed.   
“No, not very hard. Though, it’s difficult to live up to Remus –“ he said. He broke himself off, clearly unsure of the Slytherins’ feelings towards Lupin. He messed up his hair some more. Draco decided to help him out.

“Yes, I can imagine. Professor Lupin was a good teacher. He actually taught us some useful stuff.” He ignored the amused look Blaise and Pansy exchanged, before agreeing with him.

“Slytherins may not have liked the man much,” Draco explained at Potter’s happily confused expression. “But we know when to appreciate what we’ve learned. It’s a gift.”

Potter snorted out a laugh at that and bit his lip when he looked away. “Yeah. Oh, by the way, I heard you challenged James into doing some huge assignment?”

“I might have,” Draco smiled, and Potter grinned back.  
“That sounds like story-time!” Blaise cheered happily. “Tell us. You know we love stories about Potters who can’t ignore a challenge!”

Draco smirked. “Well, we were brewing a potion with fifth-years. And I noticed that many of them made stupid mistakes, things a second-year should already be able to do well. So I told them to write an essay. One good essay on brewing will usually help them with small inaccuracies, I’ve explained that to you a few times.” Pansy nodded for him to continue.  
“So I told the Hufflepuffs to use their green fingers to understand potions, the Ravenclaws to dive into the most intricate details, Slytherins to write the best essay I’ve ever read, and I challenged the Gryffindors. I told them to research a potion I‘ve never heard of, with only one rule: the potion has to work. James laughed it away, and I asked whether he thought he wouldn’t be able to do it. Conclusion: he agreed for the whole House.”

Potter grinned. “It is impressive. It’s not that easy to get James to rise to a challenge. How did you do that?”  
“Oh well, I riled him up.”  
“How? He’s the calmest person I know!” Potter exclaimed.  
Draco smirked at him. “James is a lot like you, Potter. And you seem to forget that I’m quite good at riling you up.”  
“Maybe when we were younger,” Potter protested. “But not anymore, I bet.”

Draco only needed a split second to decide what he should do.  
“Alright,” he agreed easily.  
“No, really. I used to be tired and afraid, and I used to think you were my worst enemy. Of course you were able to rile me up. Now, not so much.” Potter’s voice was a bit high-pitched.

Draco hummed in compliance.  
“Malfoy, I’m serious. I’ve grown up, I’ve gotten more relaxed,” Potter now insisted, annoyance clear.  
“I’m sure,” Draco responded.

“Godric’s arse, Malfoy! You’ve given me this angry lecture about not letting someone’s childhood character influence your view on their adult being. I’ve grown up, yes, just like you. Is that so hard to believe? Why would you think I haven’t changed a thing since I was sixteen and angry? How –“ he ranted.

Pansy interrupted softly. “Harry,” she said. Potter turned to look at her with the familiar fire in his eyes.  
“What?”  
“I believe Draco has just shown –in a very childish and irritating way- that he is still capable of riling you up in no time.”

Potter fell silent, tension fled his body. He looked at Draco, who tilted up a corner of his mouth.  
“Oh. Right.”  
“I shouldn’t have done it,” Draco said in reconciliation. The anger left Potter’s eyes, but Draco knew how easily it could flare up again if not treated correctly.  
“Yeah, no, I guess it’s fine. I challenged you, I know. Shouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want you to reciprocate.”

They smiled tentatively at each other, until Potter cleared his throat and started the conversation again.  
“You did well, though. I have never seen James work so hard for any course. And that’s not because he’s lazy or stupid.”  
“I should hope so. I’ve given myself a lot of work with this assignment, so I hope those Gryffindors at least try to impress me.”  
“Oh trust me, they do. James wants nothing more than to prove you wrong, and he’s propelling his classmates to do the same.”  
Draco laughed. “I’m sure. Most Gryffindors don’t particularly like me, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they come up with the craziest things, just to throw me off.”  
“No, that’s not true. I think they like you well enough. James thinks you’re a great professor, if sometimes a bit too sarcastic for his taste. Most of all, he’s happy Higgins is gone.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  
“Obviously. Higgins was awful. He didn’t even keep a journal on his cupboards. His books were preposterous, and his cauldrons were disgusting. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to brew a working potion in a filthy cauldron? It’s practically impossible,” Draco scoffed.

Potter hummed. “Perhaps that’s why I was rubbish at Potions. Because my cauldron wasn’t clean.”  
“No. Absolutely not,” Draco answered vehemently. “Severus was a very meticulous cleaner. His cauldrons were always clean. It was sort of his therapy when he was angry or sad.”  
“Then why did he let us clean them as detention?” Potter asked indignantly. It made Draco chuckle.  
“Because he also knew just how annoying it could be for people who aren’t used to doing it efficiently.”  
“Right,” Potter nodded. “So, are you used to it, or is it reliving your favourite detentions?”  
“My favourite detentions were with Lockhart, didn’t you know?” Draco joked. “But yes, I’m quite used to it. It can be oddly calming, just the scrubbing sounds and the constant motions. It gives one time to think.”

“Oh dear, I think Draco’s turning into Snape,” Pansy’s voice cut in. Draco had almost forgotten those two were here.  
Blaise giggled at Pansy’s comment and pointed out that Draco was already using the word ‘obviously’ in the same denigrating manner as Severus did, which made Pansy laugh as well. Potter stayed silent. When Draco caught his gaze, they smiled at each other, a bit awkwardly and a bit warmly.

“Say Harry, I was also wondering. Why did you stop being an Auror? I thought you looked very well in the Auror attire,” Pansy winked mischievously.  
“Well, I was done chasing villains.”  
“Finally,” Blaise sighed in jest.  
“Yeah, you know, bad boys aren’t exactly my type,” Potter snickered. Pansy’s eyes turned slightly wicked and she cocked her head like she usually did when she was planning something.

“Really? What’s your type then, Harry-dear? Because if I’m not wrong, you’re gay, right?”  
Potter seemed slightly uncomfortable with the train of conversation, and Draco definitely felt uncomfortable. Ever the Gryffindor, Potter pushed through.

“Yes, I am. My type though, I can’t be sure. It’s not like I’ve done extensive research. But a sense of family is always very welcome. And ehm, yeah, well, the girls I’ve, well, sort of, ‘liked’, they were all, kind of, you know, athletic? So I think, yeah, that might be, like, my type. A bit spiky. You know?”

“Very eloquent,” Blaise remarked dryly, and erupted in giggles. Pansy just smiled and took a sip from her drinks.  
“Everyone likes an athletic and spiky guy once in a while. Everyone with a decent taste, that is,” she said wisely. Potter looked relieved to find that they weren’t pushing him to describe someone, and that it was all in good fun.

“I can’t believe it. Did the fashionista of Slytherin House just say I, Harry ‘Distasteful Clothing’ Potter, have decent taste?” he poked. Pansy grinned in return.  
“Well, perhaps not in fashion,” she responded, pointedly looking at his awful orange pyjamas with broomsticks on it, “but definitely in men. Cheers.” She lifted her glass and finished the drink, summoned the Firewhiskey and poured herself some more.  
“And I’m not the fashionista of Slytherin House. Draco is. Never forget that,” she winked. Potter chuckled again, while Blaise was still giggling about his own joke.

“Oh really, Malfoy? Are you such a fashionista? Tell me, how many robes do you have in your closet?” Potter asked. Draco didn’t get the time to answer, because Pansy was already chipping in.  
“He has about fifteen different robes for formal occasions. Meaning, fifteen black, silk robes, hand-made and tailored just for him. He also has seven white robes, for weddings. The only difference between those are the colour of the stitches, ‘because one should always adjust to the chosen colour-schemes.’ And he’s got three casual robes, but he never wears those, because they are plebeian. And then he has an infinite amount of robes in all kinds of colours, varying from soft yellow to bright pink to Bordeaux red.”

“Don’t forget his underwear,” Blaise murmured. “He has the finest underwear, also tailored and mostly hand-made. Some of his pants even match with the colours of his favourite robes.”  
“Yes, yes, that’s true!” Pansy cried out with laughter. “When we asked why he would do such a thing, do you know what he said? He said, ‘because in my favourite robes, I look my best. And when I look my best, the chances are greatest that I find the best. And when I find the best, I want to keep them close. And wearing good underwear helps me keep them.’ That’s what he said!”

Potter grinned wide at Draco. “And pray tell, how does good underwear keep them close?” he chuckled. Draco scowled slightly at him, and Pansy answered for him again.

“You’ll know when you see it, Harry. You’ll know,” she shrieked. Tears of laughter were in her eyes, and Blaise was clutching his stomach. They both had had far too much to drink.

“Honestly, I’m a straight man, but Draco looks devastating in those matched pants. He can turn any man gay, if he wanted to,” Blaise admitted. “Merlin, that man is gorgeous, let me tell you. Incredible abs.”

Draco sighed, incredibly embarrassed by his supposedly best friends. He grabbed the bottle of Firewhiskey and both glasses of his friends, and took it to the kitchenette. There, he filled the glasses with water, so Pansy and Blaise could sober up before they left. He also got himself to calm down and willed the redness in his cheeks to go away.

When he returned, Draco decided to throw up a subject of himself, just to make sure the conversation wouldn’t go in any unwanted directions.

“Neville owes me one, honestly,” he ventured into the room. Pansy made an inquiring sound, while Potter turned to face Draco and raised his eyebrows.  
“This afternoon, he decided to ply me with Veritaserum. Luckily, it’s just Neville, so I know he knows he owes me big time.”  
“Why, what did he want?” Blaise asked.  
“He wanted to talk. About my type, or something. It was very strange.”  
“Draco, really? You let this happen?” Pansy frowned unhappily.  
Draco shrugged. “Well, if it had been anyone else, I would’ve kicked them out and never spoken to them again. But from Neville, I can take it. Besides, it’s hardly the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me, is it?”

Pansy sat up straighter and frowned harder. Potter bit his lip and frowned. Blaise giggled, but frowned after that.

“You shouldn’t let people walk all over you. Harry, you have to make sure people don’t walk all over him. He lets that happen,” Pansy complained.  
“Malfoy? He doesn’t let anyone walk over him. I heard how he raged against McGonagall with Terence and Priscus. Have you told them about Terence and Priscus?” Potter asked Draco. Draco nodded in response. 

“That’s different. He’s Head of Slytherin House, the Slytherins are his. And Draco is very, very protective over what’s his. You don’t touch what’s his.” That was Pansy again. She rambled a bit.  
“His mother sends him chocolate. If he offers you one, you can’t refuse. He’ll take it as an insult to his mother. He’ll get very passive aggressive. You might think he’s verbally aggressive, but he isn’t. He is subtle, very subtle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blaise agreed. “Like, if he knows you can’t eat chocolate, or you don’t like it, or you’re trying to lose weight, he won’t offer it. But he will offer something else. If he thinks you’re worth it. So, if he knows you don’t eat chocolate for whatever reason, he’ll have something else for you, instead of the chocolate, he’ll do a lot of research and puts in a lot of effort to be able to offer you something else. Something you do like and you can eat. You know.”  
Potter was valiantly trying to suppress his laughter at Blaise’s murmured and tangled sentences, while Pansy was giggling uncontrollably now. When Draco met Potter’s gaze, the man couldn’t control himself anymore and barked out a few loud laughs.  
“Good to know, Blaise,” he wheezed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And these were the moods in which the rest of the evening passed, until Pansy and Blaise finally decided to go home, and Potter left Draco with a few soft pats on his shoulder. Draco climbed in bed and slept deeply and satisfactorily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I asked which continent you thought I was from. I am from Europe, correct, so most of you were right. Now I've got two questions: why did you think Europe, and which exact country do you think I'm from?
> 
> Peace out babes!


	11. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's a short chapter, because I don't really have time. Maybe I'll add some more in the coming week. I love all your responses!

Draco’s alarm beeped, and he woke up with a loud yawn. Ophiuchus was reading already in the Potions book he had taken to work through. With a smile, Draco ushered Phi through the morning routine, and Draco himself drank his regular cup of tea until Phi was dressed and ready to go. The moment Phi walked out of the bedroom, he looked Draco up and down and grinned.

“Why are you wearing those robes?” he asked cheekily. Draco looked down at his clothing.  
“Not good?” he worried.  
“No, it’s good. You know I like those robes. Nothing wrong with it,” Phi assured him with a hug and a smile. Draco looked at him a few more seconds to try and find out what his son had meant with his question, but he gave up and smiled back.

Together, Draco and Phi walked downstairs, where Cassie and Scorpius were waiting for them. Aquila joined them a minute later, and immediately frowned.

“What’s going on?” she asked her siblings. Phi merely shrugged, and Cassie smirked. At Draco’s confused hum, Cassie huffed a laugh.  
“Your robes, papa.”  
“Don’t get me wrong,” Scorpius took over. “You look dashing in those robes, but is today a special day?”  
Draco knitted his brows together and stroked his robes flat.   
“Why? Phi also commented on it. What’s wrong with them?” he wondered. Cassie laughed loudly and patted his shoulder.

“Papa, you have always said that those robes were your best ones and you wouldn’t wear them without good reason!” she exclaimed.  
“Besides, they are very… tailored,” Scorpius added dryly, with no facial expression except for an arched eyebrow.  
“You called them your ‘I need to impress people and it’s very important’-robes,” Aquila supplied.   
Phi giggled. “Also known as ‘Sometimes, flirting is the only thing on my mind, today’-robes.”

Draco stood still and looked down at his outfit. It was a very pale blue, matching his skin in paleness, but his eyes in electric blue. A bit like the transparent blue of ice caps. Draco liked these robes. But his children might be right. He only wore them when he was planning something. This morning, however, he had pulled them out without thinking much of it.

“Is it too much?” he asked then. His children looked at each other, all with small smiles on their faces.  
“Depends on what you’re trying to achieve, doesn’t it?” Aquila smirked slightly. Scorpius gave her an approving nod.  
“I’m not trying to achieve anything. I just wasn’t completely awake this morning,” Draco answered, a bit defensive. His children were up to something and he didn’t know what it was. He hated it. With literally everyone, he was able to see their weaknesses, strengths and plans, but his children could still be enigmas to him.

Cassie smiled indulgently. “Well, then I think these are just fine. Aquila was just wondering whether there was anything special we had forgotten about.” She gave him a kiss on his cheek and smiled again. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.”

Draco felt as if he was missing something major, but followed his children to the Great Hall. Slipping into his seat next to Potter, who was somehow on time, he picked a piece of toast and started buttering it.

“Morning, Potter,” Draco greeted cheerily. Potter smiled at him with a small glance, but quickly turned his head to face Draco fully. His smile broadened.  
“Good morning. You look happy. Slept well?”  
“Yes, I did, thank you. Last evening left me in a happy state,” Draco confided. “And you?”  
“Oh, very well. It was nice.”  
“It was, it was. Listen, I should thank you,” Draco said, removing his smile and turning serious. Potter looked a bit puzzled, but let Draco take his time to search for the right words.

“Last night, the way you treated Pansy and Blaise. I really appreciated it. No, don’t talk yet. I know you might not be too happy with them, or with me, even, but you behaved better than I’d expected.” Draco’s tone was light at the last part, trying to make his thanks less difficult.

“No, Malfoy, no. I… You were right, last time we spoke of Pansy. Well, not entirely…” Potter laughed at Draco’s indignant face. “But about some things, you were right. So I had been thinking about that, and when you said that they were visiting you, I thought it might be a good way to make it up to them. And to you.”

Draco smiled softly at that. They kept looking at each other, their eyes holding a conversation of their own, of forgiveness and putting the past behind them. When Draco noticed these thought flowing through his mind, he physically shook his head and averted his gaze.

“So, are your children excited for the Hallowe’en Feast?” Potter asked after a second.  
“Yes, they are. Ophiuchus is thinking of dressing up as Hagrid, by way of his morphing abilities and a wig. I’m not sure whether he’s powerful enough to do that, but we’ll see,” Draco chuckled.  
“Hagrid? A son of yours, dressing up as Hagrid? Why, Malfoy, I wouldn’t have thought you’d allow that!” Potter mock-exclaimed. Draco huffed out a laugh.  
“Well, at least he thinks Hagrid is scary enough to dress up as him for Hallowe’en. That’s something.”  
“So you admit you were scared of Hagrid, then?” Potter teased.  
Raising an eyebrow and looking severely unimpressed, Draco said, “Potter, I spent every hour of my days with Severus. Do you honestly think that Hagrid would scare me? He’s a big oaf, but he doesn’t come close to the cutting tongue of the Master of Slytherins.”

Potter bellowed a laugh at that. “That’s true. I’ve never seen Hagrid proper angry. I suspect that can be scary.”  
“Perhaps. It depends on what you’d call scary, doesn’t it?” Draco answered.  
“I think, for most students at the moment, an angry half-giant with good relationships with the magical animals around, yeah, that might be scary,” Potter responded with a dry smile around his lips. With that, their conversation had stilted. Potter started talking to his other neighbour and Draco enjoyed his breakfast.

After a while, Draco frowned at his plate. “Forgive me if I’m asking things I shouldn’t be asking,” he started hesitantly. Potter looked at him and urged him on by a single nod.  
“I would have thought you wouldn’t like Hallowe’en. Because of... You know.”

Potter looked at him with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe that Draco had actually thought about that.  
“Well, I don’t exactly mind,” he said then, softly. “I miss them, and it hurts sometimes, but the date doesn’t mean much to me. It’s not like I can remember it. It might as well have been on Christmas. So the date is just something symbolic to me, and not an actual reminder of what happened.”  
“The Hallowe’en Feast has never bothered you, then?”  
“No, not really. Just a party, just people acting stupid with a reason. I rather liked the parties and feasts Hogwarts entertained.”  
Draco smiled. “I always liked the Start-of-term and End-of-term Feasts. I don’t know how other Houses felt about them, but in Slytherin, it was a chance to have fun with each other, without having to think of tests, parents, futures, professors, Quidditch. Just fun.”  
“Hmm. It’s been a long time since I last played Quidditch. I miss it,” Potter said thoughtfully.

Draco took a few bites of his toast and sipped his tea, while quickly checking whether his children were alright. Aquila was leading a discussion with the Ravenclaws, and occasionally, Matias whispered something, which made Aquila throw her head back in laughter. Scorpius and Albus were speaking with just each other, but Draco caught their eyes and they smiled. Cassie was reading a book about the medieval times. Phi was at the other end of the Great Table, talking to Neville. They were both grinning happily, as if they had something in common. It didn’t shock Draco; everything interested Phi, and Neville was polite enough to appear interested in many things.

“Didn’t you play Quidditch with…” Draco hesitated slightly before he decided to ignore his discomfort. “With Ginny? When you were married, I mean.”

Potter caught his gaze and smiled. He was surprised that Draco used Ginny’s first name, sure, but he was mostly loving what Draco was trying to do: Draco was breaking down all the walls he had thrown up to protect himself. No more last names, no more inappropriate pride, and no more unfounded opinions. Potter had noticed it before, right from the very first day, when Phi had started talking to Potter and Draco hadn’t minded, but now, Potter saw the full extent of Draco’s ambition. He was a changed man, but still the same. A remarkable feat to accomplish.

“Ginny spent her entire day on a broom. When she came home, or on her day off, she just wanted to laze around and eat ice cream. And not many of my friends play, so I couldn’t fly with them.”  
“What about Ron?” Draco asked, swallowing a bite.  
“Ron plays of course, and Bill does as well. But Percy doesn’t, Charlie’s never home and George refuses to see a Snitch or a Bludger, since… Since Fred died, really.” Potter knitted his brown together for a second and tilted his head.

“Sometimes we play with the children, but that’s just awful. I mean, I have to play against Ginny as the opposing Seeker, because Charlie’s in Romania, and Ginny’s just no fun. She can’t take a loss. We’ve got two Keepers, Ron and James, but not enough Beaters and Chasers to form complete teams. And most of them only play when it’s absolutely necessary,” Potter complained. “Honestly, I never thought I would say this, but the Weasley family is just too small!”

Draco laughed at that. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that before,” he grinned. Potter chuckled along.  
“So what about you? Have you played Quidditch recently?”  
“Well, same as you, really. Not enough players. When we play, I am Seeker, with Scorpius as my opponent. Aquila and Cassie are both Beater and Chaser. ‘Quila is the better Beater, and Cassie of course the Chaser. And Ophiuchus is the Keeper of my team, usually, and my mother Keeper of the opposite team.”

“Your mother?” Potter asked, eyes bulging out of their sockets.  
“Yes, she plays. She has played in her Hogwarts days as well. She was very good.” Draco looked at Potter, who was still trying to come to terms with the picture of Narcissa ‘Elegance is the Key’ Malfoy on a broom.

“What, did you actually think that my father, Lucius knew how to fly?” Draco snorted then. “He wouldn’t know how to hold a broomstick, Potter. Not on the ground, and certainly not in the air.”  
“But who taught you to fly, then?” Potter asked, still not convinced.  
“As I said, my mother was, is, very good. Keepers need a lot of skill in flying and balance. It a matter of control. And may I say, everyone who has seen my mother knows that she has full control over everything around her.”

Potter nodded, fully agreeing to that statement. “So your mum was a Keeper. I had never thought such a thing. But it sounds like a hassle to play a proper game.”  
“That, it is. We don’t play often. My father dislikes it as well, because he is the only one who can’t enjoy it. So to keep the peace, we only play when he is out or hiding in the library.”

“Say, Malfoy,” Potter said a bit later, grinning widely and with sparkling eyes. “What do you say of a short Seeker’s game this afternoon?”  
Draco felt a smile grow on his lips, but it faded soon. “I’m not sure I have time today,” he said regretfully.  
“Why not?”  
“I am expecting a letter. The content of that letter will tell me whether I have time or not,” Draco explained.  
“Oh. When do you expect the letter?”

Draco heard a hoot and looked up to see the Owl Post flying in. “Right about now.”

A massive brown Blakiston Fish Owl flew their way, and Draco held out his arm to invite the bird to sit on that, instead of landing on the table. The owl landed on his forearm, just like she was trained to do. With a quick movement, Draco gave her a treat and took the letter from her claw.

“Good girl,” he murmured, while trying to open the letter with one hand.  
“She’s beautiful,” Potter said next to him.  
“Yes, she is. Her name is Amber. I’m sorry, could you take her on your arm for a moment? I need to open this letter and it’s sealed too tightly to open with one hand,” Draco asked.  
Potter held out his arm, not sure how to do it right. Draco took his wrist and twisted his arm a quarter of a turn, so it was in the right position for Draco to give Amber. Potter slowly petted the ruffled feathers on Amber’s head and cooed a bit. Draco read the letter he had finally managed to open.

“Well, Potter, I guess our Seeker’s game has to be rescheduled. My afternoon turns out to be full,” Draco said apologetically, after folding the letter in his pocket. He saw Potter’s smile falter a bit at that, and added, “But tomorrow, I’ll be totally free. If you’re still up for it, of course. Have a good day. I’m going to prepare my classroom for a horde of students. Amber, go up to the Owlery. Come on, fly, now.”

Draco shooed the bird away and waved Potter goodbye, before he left to his classroom with a big smile on his face.

The day of classes didn’t pass as soon as Draco wanted it to. But at a certain moment, his classes were done, and he went up to his apartment, cleaning it thoroughly and readying it for his visitors. Right when the clock struck five, a knock sounded on his door. One last look at the room assured Draco that everything was tidy enough.

“Good afternoon,” he said when opening the door. A man of about his age was standing in front of him, wearing a checked shirt and Muggle jeans. He also had a fedora on his head, with large flowers embroidered on it.

“You’re Draco, I presume,” the man said, with a slight south-European accent. He held out his hand and Draco gripped it. “I am. Draco Malfoy, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Miguel Rufuelas.”  
“Please come in,” Draco said with a smile, opening the door wider to let Miguel pass. Behind him, a thin, small woman was standing.

“Good afternoon. Alexa Firree, nice to meet you,” the woman said. She offered her hand to Draco in the common pureblood fashion, so Draco held it gently and inclined his head in the same pureblood fashion.

“Draco Malfoy. Do come in. Would you like something to drink?” he asked. The man, who had already plummeted on the sofa, smiled brightly and said, “Yes please. Anything you have.”

Draco smirked at him and turned a questioning glance to Alexa. She smiled warmly.  
“A cup of tea for me, please. And he’ll have the same.”  
Draco nodded at her. They shared another look of exasperated fondness when Miguel joked about having a Firewhiskey, but the moment Draco turned his back to move to the kitchenette, the conversation took another turn.

“Miguel, could you behave?” Alexa asked, hushed.  
Miguel hummed. “He’s a pureblood, isn’t he,” he stated, more than asked. Alexa exhaled heavily.  
“Yes, so please, behave.”  
“Behave like you taught me to?”  
“Preferably.”  
“You know I won’t. And Neville’s a pureblood too, I don’t see him minding my behaviour.”

Alexa sighed again.  
“No, but he is another type of pureblood. Draco has been raised in my kind of environment, only worse. And he still cares about such things.”  
Miguel grunted and mumbled something Draco couldn’t hear. According to Alexa’s response, it wasn’t favourable.

“Miguel, caring for pureblood traditions isn’t necessarily bad. Neville has told us how Draco isn’t a stuck-up snob. His daughter is friends with a muggleborn, and his son is best friends with Harry Potter’s son. I don’t think he’s still convinced of those ideologies anymore.”

There was another grunt, but this time it seemed to be an assent, because Alexa laughed a bit and hugged him. Draco knew this, because he was walking back to the living room when they broke apart.

“Pick a flavour you like,” he said, while placing the box of tea in front of his guests. “I’ll go grab a few of my books, and then we can start, if you’re still willing.”

Alexa smiled at him. Miguel jovially cheered, but it didn’t reach his eyes. When Draco turned around to get his books, he sighed softly. Of course he couldn’t expect people to welcome him with open arms, and the fact that Miguel and Alexa were here was very positive, but after the last couple of days had been so pleasant, with Potter and Pansy and Blaise, Draco had forgotten that it could also be very difficult for him.

But they were here now, and if they worked hard enough, Draco might have a working charm for his research project. And that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have spent two hours today on thinking how Draco's wardrobe would look like and which robes and shirts and things he had. It was fun. I had a lot of fun.
> 
> And I haven't seen anyone who guessed the correct country! You want another try?


	12. Seeker's game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was far too short, so you deserved another one. Enjoy!

The meeting with Alexa and Miguel went well. It went better than expected, actually, and better than Draco had dared to hope. Fifteen minutes before dinner would be served in the Great Hall, Miguel and Alexa left Draco’s living room, all three of them wearing smiles. 

“Thank you for coming today. I don’t think I could have done it myself,” Draco thanked, while showing the way to the door.  
“No worries, really. We enjoyed it,” Alexa smiled. She offered her hand and Draco took it as gracefully as he could. He liked her.

Miguel clapped him on his shoulder and gave him a quick hug.  
“You’re an okay one, for a pureblood. Neville was right about you,” he said sincerely, with his booming voice and square posture. Draco nodded uncomfortably, the overheard conversation between Alexa and Miguel still fresh in his mind.

After Draco had said his final goodbyes, he quickly cleaned up the last signs of guests in his living room and went downstairs when done. He was a bit late, so the doors were already closed. With a flick of his wand, however, the wooden doors opened slowly to let him through. Draco smirked at the grand entrance he made, not regretting this morning’s choice for a robe. He strode through the middle of the Great Hall, greeting some students, and then sat down at his usual spot next to Potter. He caught Scorpius’s eye and winked, so fast that he wasn’t sure whether Scorpius had seen. The answering grin on his son’s face assured him that Scorpius had seen it, though.

“You seem happy,” Potter remarked. Draco smirked at him.  
“I am happy.”  
“Your meeting with those people went well, then?”  
“It did. It went very well. I would tell you about it, but it’s far too long a story and I doubt you’d think it’s interesting. So for both our sakes, I’ll keep quiet,” Draco said, raising his eyebrow.  
“That’s okay. By the way, Malfoy, I was thinking, why wait until tomorrow?”

Draco frowned at Potter.  
“Tomorrow?”  
“Yes. The game of Quidditch you promised me. Why wait until tomorrow?”  
“Because it’s dark outside,” Draco rolled his eyes. “And I don’t know who you are planning to recruit for a game, because there aren’t many teachers who play. You could of course invite students. I’m sure many of them would kill to play Quidditch with you, though most of them wouldn’t want me to be included. And frankly, I’m not looking forward to the idea of playing a game with students. Sorry.”

Potter was chuckling throughout Draco’s objections, and full-out laughed when Draco tacked on his last argument.

“And I promised you a Seeker’s game, not a full Quidditch match.”

“Great!” Potter exclaimed. “A Seeker’s game, tonight, you and me.”  
“Potter, honestly, we can’t see the Snitch in the dark. Human beings don’t have X-Ray vision, unless you threw around some money to make it work.”  
“Have you never heard of a glow-in-the-dark Snitch?” Potter grinned.

“Glow-in-the-dark?” Draco managed. “It is a Golden Snitch, Potter. I understand what glow-in-the-dark is, but really, a Golden Snitch should never be anything but golden. And gold cannot glow in the dark.”  
“It’s Weasley’s newest invention, because Ginny wanted to train in the early mornings and late evenings. It’s great, Malfoy. In daylight, it’s just gold, a real Golden Snitch. But at night, it glows. Not any weird colour, just… a golden glow light in the dark. You can even adjust the brightness of the glow.”

Draco was flummoxed as he tried to comprehend it entirely.

“That’s – That’s so stupidly brilliant, I can’t even insult it!” he guffawed finally. Potter laughed in response.  
“I believe you just did, though.”  
“Good. I can’t imagine myself not insulting a Weasley,” Draco joked, hoping Potter would know he wasn’t serious.  
Luckily, he seemed to understand.  
“Right, yeah, how is your Weasley-insulting going, lately?”

Draco shook his head gravely.  
“Not too well. They still have red hair, but ever since that joke shop got successful, they don’t really wear hand-me-down robes, anymore. How am I supposed to think of varied insults, now?” he mourned. Potter patted his shoulder in commiseration.  
“That’s too bad. The shop has gotten incredibly popular, so yeah, they don’t really wear hand-me-down robes anymore.”  
Draco let a smile shimmer through. “The only reason it’s so popular, is because everyone hopes you might be there.”  
“You say that as a joke, but the awful truth is that many do visit the shop, just because I occasionally buy something there,” Potter remarked with a sigh.  
“So the Harry Potter fan club is reality, now, is it? Don’t let Lockhart hear you.”

Potter laughed at that, while Draco frowned at the ceiling and continued speaking.

“Although I believe the fan club has always been a reality. There is no way on earth that the Patil twins wanted to go to the Yule Ball with you. Or that Cho Chang actually liked you. They were far too pretty for you troll face.”

At this point, Potter was doubling over from laughter.

“And of course, you were never supposed to get into the Quidditch team in your first year. And the referees were always biased. I even suspect one of your fans to have charmed the score board to add extra points in your favour. Or perhaps you were given Liquid Luck. Were you?”

Draco smirked at Potter’s state: he had pushed his plate away and was half-lying on the table, laughing so hard that his eyes had started to tear. He was covering his face with one of his hands, while the other was flapping, as if he was trying to sign Draco to stop.

“It wasn’t that funny, Potter. I was merely stating facts.”  
Hiccupping and wiping his eyes, Potter slowly sat up again.  
“No, it – it really was,” he grinned. “You – you just vented all your teenage frustrations, didn’t you?”  
Draco scoffed. “’Teenage frustrations’ makes it sound like they were based on nothing. And obviously, they were based on very accurate observations.”  
“I’m glad you can joke about your former obsession with me, Malfoy. It shows you have grown up,” Potter remarked dryly.

“Oh, are we talking about obsessions, now? Really, Potter, one would think you forgot your own tendencies,” Draco shot back, raising an eyebrow.  
“How could I? You keep reminding me. Besides, I never had an obsession. I just thought you were up to something. Which I was right about, by the way.”  
“Of course, because that was such a difficult thing to find out. However, I would still call it an obsessions. And I am willing to ask your friends what they called it,” Draco challenged, at the same time trying to convey he was merely bantering.  
Potter kept silent, visibly thinking. After a few moments, he narrowed his eyes at Draco and said, with a deep, rumbling voice, “Don’t you dare contact Hermione or Ron about this.”  
He saw Draco’s eyes widen in something like regret, and quickly added, “I wouldn’t be able to stand your smugness when you find out you are right about this.”

Draco blinked once, before he broke out in a wide smile. Feeling proper proud of himself, he flicked his hair like he saw Cassie once do.  
“Get used to it, Potter-boy,” he grinned afterwards. Potter groaned in response, but still asked Draco whether he wanted to do the Seeker’s game that evening or not.

Draco had said yes, of course, so after dinner, they both went to their rooms in order to dress warm enough for a cold October evening in the air. They met at the Quidditch pitch, Potter holding a small box in his hand.

“Just so you know, I haven’t played an actual game where I had to work to get the Snitch,” Draco warned. “And I still can’t take a loss. So if you dislike playing against Ginny because she can’t take a loss, you should back out now.”

“Right, and let you brag how you scared me off the field?” Potter smiled slyly. Draco rolled his eyes.  
“So, I’m going to free the Snitch now. It’ll hover around us for a moment, so we can see how it looks, and perhaps adapt the brightness of the glow, and then it’ll fly away. Ready?”  
“Ready.”

Potter opened the box and freed the Snitch. It had a beautiful glow around, shiny and a proper golden colour. The men agreed that it glowed well enough, and Potter spoke the spell that would allow the Snitch to zoom away. Right after, Draco mounted his broom and kicked off. He was in the air and chasing the faint light, far before Potter had even got a good grip on his broomstick.

“That’s cheating!” Potter yelled, when he was somewhat closer. Draco bit his lip, disliking the fact that Potter had caught up already.  
“It most certainly is not,” Draco called back. “I can’t remember having agreed to any rules. Hence, there is no cheating involved.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Potter hovering nearby, only following Draco where he was going. He couldn’t even see the Snitch, because of Draco’s shadow.

Draco grinned, a plan quickly forming in his head. With one smooth movement, he swerved away, down to the ground in a breakneck speed. Potter didn’t hesitate to follow, just put more power behind his broom and accelerated. When they almost reached the ground, Potter was right next to Draco and was searching for sight of the little golden ball. Draco smirked at him and swerved away, starting to stunt and pulling tricks, instead of chasing the Snitch. Potter held in to see what was going in, but as soon as he understood, he joined in.

The rest of the evening, Draco and Potter kept flying and competing, but the glow-in-the-dark Snitch wasn’t anywhere around them. Draco hadn’t had this much fun on a broom since the time Astoria had bought Scorpius a new broom because she wouldn’t be home for a week, and Draco had taught Scorpius the ins and outs of flying on a top-of-the-shelf broom.

When they landed back on the ground, Potter was breathing hard, but grinning all the same. He was sweaty and red in the face. Draco assumed he wasn’t much better off. They walked back together as far as they could. When they reached their parting place, Potter didn’t pause to engulf Draco in a quick hug.

“Thanks for tonight. See you tomorrow?” Potter asked.  
“Of course. Good night,” Draco smiled back. He watched Potter’s retreating back and then went to his own room.

He had to talk to Neville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one thinks I'm from the UK :-( (okay, one person did, but only as second guess.) And here I was thinking my English was good enough... xD
> 
> Still haven't seen my home country yet, though. Keep trying!
> 
> I love the person who thought I was from Sweden because I used ABBA, by the way. That was a very good guess.
> 
> And I'm quite good at French, and I love the idea of Frenchie Draco.


	13. Flirting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohoo, another chapter! The next one is already practically written. I'm warning you:
> 
> Chapter no. 14 is the beginning of the end, before the end ends and the beginning can begin, so it can be the beginning of the end.
> 
> :D

Draco didn’t have breakfast in the Great Hall, the next morning. Rather, he asked the elves in the kitchen for a few pieces of toast, and ate in his room, with tea he made himself. He was grumpy and short during his lessons, no caring about the several confused Slytherins who didn’t know him this way. When lunchtime came, he waited for Neville outside the doors of the Great Hall, and swooped him away to a private place.

“We have to talk,” Draco said at Neville’s dumbfounded expression. Neville just nodded and didn’t say anything else until they were in the greenhouses Neville used for his research, a place Draco thought was safe enough, since Cassie was at lunch and no one else was allowed to come in here.

“What’s going on?” Neville asked gently, while he sat down and Draco kept standing. Draco sent him a devastating look.  
“Why did you ask me whether I was describing anyone?” he asked. He walked from where Neville was leaning against one of the plant beds to the other side of the greenhouse and stood there, his back turned to Neville while he waited for the Gryffindor to answer.

“I was wondering.”  
Draco could hear that his voice had gone softer, pitying. He suppressed the urge to turn around and start yelling.  
“I will need some more than that,” Draco remarked softly, dark and perhaps more threatening that intended. He heard Neville breathe out behind him.

“Have you had some kind of realisation, Draco?”  
“Neville,” Draco growled, and felt his hands clench.  
“I’m sorry. I thought you had to know, and I didn’t know another way to make you realise.”  
Draco spun around, his robes swirling aggressively, in a way that would have made Severus proud.

“How about talking to me? Ever tried that particular technique?”  
“I know, I know, it was stupid. But I think that perhaps this was the only way to make you understand I wasn’t imagining things.”  
“How in Salazar’s name do you think this was any better? I swear to Merlin, Longbottom, you will pay for this, one way or another. You owe me big time, now.”

Neville seemed taken aback by Draco’s sudden use of his last name and frowned.  
“I know, I do,” he said softly, hanging his head low.

Draco was shaking with fury now and his hand was white from gripping his other arm fiercely.

“May I ask, how are things going?”

Draco raised his eyes and looked at Neville, slowly calming down enough to see things more rationally.  
“Sorry. Are we going to say his name, or will we keep it vague?” he managed after a while.  
“Your call.” At least Neville knew how to handle Draco right now.

Draco swallowed his pride and breathed a few times.  
“It’s going all right between me and Potter, thank you,” he bit out. “But I’m not sure whether I would like to talk to you about it.”  
“You don’t have to. You can, if you want. I know the both of you. If you don’t want to talk, however, I’m not going to force you.”  
They stared at each other for a long time, without saying anything, before Draco strode back to where Neville was standing, and lifted himself up on the wooden table.

“I told you I’ve never been in love. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. The only thing I can do, is courting someone in the pureblood manner, but I hardly think that is what he wants. If he even wants me to do anything. And courting seems a bit too serious, doesn’t it?” Draco said with a deep rumble to his tone. He was nervous, but trying his best to trust Neville like he might trust Pansy and Blaise. He wanted Neville as his friend, and he was sure Neville wanted that as well.

Neville nodded gravely. “It’s difficult.”  
“Just for the record, I do not want advice. I just want you to listen. If I want advice, I’ll ask.”  
Neville nodded again. “Promise.”

Draco smiled at him in response.  
“Surely, you’ve noticed that he and I are… sort of friendly.” Draco sent Neville a dark look. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have lathered me with Veritaserum.”

Neville patted his shoulder softly. “I have.”

“And now I have no idea what to do with myself. Not to mention what my children would think.”  
“You think your children might not approve?” Neville asked, a smile audible in his voice.  
“Well, I don’t know,” Draco pondered. “I definitely will be odd for them, since they have never seen me in any proper relationship. Cassie might like the idea of some Gryffindors around, but at the same time, she might not appreciate the extra noise and people. And Scorpius and Albus… it would be so strange for them. Especially if Potter and I would break up after a while, they would be caught right in the middle of it all. It would put quite the strain on their friendship, and I don’t want to be blamed for that.”

“You’ve really thought about it, haven’t you?” Neville teased him.  
“A Slytherin always thinks about the consequences of everything that happens,” Draco spoke wisely. He punched Neville in the arm and jumped of the work bench.  
“Let’s go back to see if there is any lunch left.”

When they walked back, Neville kept teasing him gently, but didn’t touch any topics that were too sensitive.

“How have you been?” Potter asked, the moment Draco sat down.  
“Very well, thank you. And you?”  
“Yeah, yeah, well enough. Where were you this morning, though?”

Draco frowned. “I had to sort some things out. Nothing to worry about. Did you have any interesting lessons today?”  
“My second years have been working on some defensive spells, but it’s a very giggly year. The spells flew around my head, honestly. I felt violated.”

With a laugh, Draco took a bite of his apple. “You mean the second year Ravenclaws? They’re awful, I know. I can’t get them to work.”  
“Exactly! However, I have noticed that Tania is the worst. If you get her to be quiet, the rest is easy.”  
“Really? How do you silence her, then?”  
“Separate her from Denise, that’s the key. And then, threaten Tania with a bit of detention, and she’s easy to handle.”  
Draco nodded slowly. “Well done, you. How is Cassie doing in DADA, by the way?”

A smile took over Potter’s face and his eyes started to twinkle a bit. “Did you know she is an amazing girl? She is so clever and funny. I adore her.”  
Draco started to grin uncontrollably. “Yes, I know she is all that. I’ve known her for twelve years now,” he winked.

“And she’s doing very well. Her essays belong to the best of the class. Her spells are a bit wonky at times, but I believe that will change soon. She just needs to gain a bit more control over her magic, and then it’ll be fine,” Potter explained.  
“Ah control. She’s always had a bit of trouble with that. Just let me know if you think she needs help with anything. Or if she doesn’t behave.”  
Potter smiled at him. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. She was one of the few who didn’t fail horribly today, with the defensive spells,” he remarked.

“Good.” Draco tilted his head and shot a glance at the Gryffindor table, where Potter’s children were talking animatedly. “It’s your daughter’s first year, isn’t it? How is she doing overall?”

Potter turned to him fully and grinned. “Lily, yes. From what I’ve heard from professors, she’s doing okay. The only course I have no idea about, is Potions. I wonder how I can find out about that.”  
“Very unkind of the Potions professor not to tell you anything about her progress,” Draco said sympathetically, while innocently looking at his plate. “Could I help, somehow?”

This resulted in a loud bark of laughter. The murmurings in the Great Hall silenced a bit, but picked up soon enough. Draco heard one very familiar laugh ring through the buzz of the talk, so he sent a glance in Aquila’s direction.

“I don’t know, Malfoy. Can you?”

Draco watched Potter from the corner of his eye, but quickly turned his upper body to face Potter, and smiled.

“Lily is better than I would have expected from a Gryffindor, not to mention, from a child of yours.”  
“Thanks,” Potter responded dryly. “She said she liked it. She also said she liked the Potions professor, so I’m not completely sure whether she actually is my child.”  
Draco chuckled. “Your son also likes the Potions professor, Potter, so perhaps there some DNA deep inside of you that likes me. Because it sure doesn’t come from Ginny.”

Another laugh. Draco swallowed, but smirked a bit at himself. He wasn’t sure whether he had really just flirted with Potter, but it seemed like it.

“I must come from me then. And since James is working harder for you than for any other teacher, ever, I assume this gene of mine must be dominant.”  
“How sweet, are you truly admitting to liking me? Potter, I am touched.”  
“Oh no, Malfoy, I’m not. But if you need my approval, I am more than willing to extend some. Just say the word.”

They were definitely flirting now. Weren’t they? Yes, they were. It had to be. Right? No one would just say these things, right? Or would they? Potter was an oddity, of course. But even he couldn’t be so oblivious to the turn the conversation had taken.

They shouldn’t be flirting. They were sitting at the High Table in the Great Hall, with all students of every house looking at them and every teacher judging them. This shouldn’t be so easy to fall into. Potter shouldn’t be so easy to get used to. Especially keeping their shared history in mind. It shouldn’t be this good.

Potter didn’t seem to mind, though. So if he didn’t mind, then perhaps that meant it was all right. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as Draco made it seem to be. But that only counted if Potter was aware of what was happening, right now. If he didn’t notice, he would have no reason to mind, of course. But he must know as well. The glint in his eyes reassured Draco that Potter knew, just as well as Draco did. And that meant that Potter was deliberately flirting back. And that meant it was all right for them to flirt. Because Potter didn’t mind, so Draco didn’t have to mind.

But Potter also didn’t have the same kind of scrutiny as Draco did. He didn’t have to watch his every move and every word like Draco did. Because Draco had been on the wrong side of the war. Draco had tortured people, and indirectly killed them. Potter had also killed people, but only in defense of others. He had killed the man Draco shouldn’t have sworn allegiance to. Potter had done the right thing. So for him, it wouldn’t be much of a problem what the papers said.

Draco would be taken to Azkaban without further ado, if he got caught making one tiny mistake. Lots of people already thought that Draco had already overstepped when taking the job at Hogwarts. Some people already wanted him dead, when he decided to keep doing his shopping at Diagon Alley. Many people wanted his children gone from this school, gone from the United Kingdom. He couldn’t afford anything.

And if he would be getting closer with Potter, he would be digging his own grave. No one would think that Draco would actually be befriending Potter, because he likes Potter. Everyone would think that Draco would do it for the benefit of the Malfoy name. Or worse, they’d think he would be trying to poison Potter, or kill him in any other way. Perhaps even extract information to use against the Ministry.

But no, no one would think any good of Draco. So flirting with Potter was the worst thing Draco could be doing at this moment.

But Potter was flirting back, and Draco couldn’t resist. It’s not as if anything could come of it. Harmless flirting, that’s what it was.

“Well, a bit of approval might be good for me. I’ve been feeling a bit depressed, lately, you know. My ego has taken quite a brunt,” Draco smirked, challenging Potter with a single raised eyebrow.  
“Really? Your ego? I always thought you had enough of that. When did it take the brunt?”  
“I think somewhere around the time Pansy and Blaise were embarrassing me in front of you.”  
“Oh right. I would assume that they should be complimenting you, then,” Potter shrugged.  
“And yet, here you are, offering me compliments, but not paying them.”

They were sitting face to face now, Draco had turned slightly in his seat to look Potter straight in his eyes. If either one would look up, they would have seen seven children shooting glances and sending notes over to each other, but also a Gryffindor Herbologist, standing at the Ravenclaw table and whispering with one of the seven afore-mentioned children.

“I offered you approval, not compliments,” Potter grinned.  
Draco rolled his eyes. “Shut up and compliment me.”  
“I can’t shut up and compliment you, Malfoy. Surely, you’re intelligent enough to know that.”  
“Potter, give me a compliment,” Draco asked, while fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly. Potter threw his head back in laughter and clawed with his hand at his stomach.  
“Okay, okay, I’ll give you compliment,” he said after a few seconds. “Your robes yesterday looked quite good.”

Draco smirked. “I should hope so.” No matter what his children said, it had been a good choice then. Of course it was. They were his good robes, for Merlin’s sake.

“They were perhaps a bit small on you, though,” Potter added.  
“Small? They were hand-tailored, Potter.”  
“Then perhaps you grew since you had them made.”  
“Are you insinuating I’m fat?” Draco asked unbelievably. The smirk on Potter’s face made the insult not much of an insult, though, so Draco didn’t exactly mind.  
“I’m stating that your robes were tightly fitted.”

There was a teasing look on Potter’s face, and a warm glow in his eyes. Draco smiled back.

“And what if those robes were meant to be tight?”  
Potter’s mouth quirked up. He bit his lip before he answered, “Then you shouldn’t be wearing them on a regular school day. Just saying.” He grinned.

Draco suppressed his smile when he heard a cough behind him. Professor McGonagall wore a kind expression, but was trying to look stern.  
“Misters, the afternoon classes are about to start. Are you going to your class rooms soon?”

Draco looked around him to see that the Great Hall was practically empty. He cleared his throat.  
“Yes, yes, you’re right, Head Mistress. I will see you this evening. Good luck in your lessons, Mr. Potter,” he managed uncomfortably. Potter arched his eyebrows at Draco’s manner of addressing him, but let it slide for now. Draco quickly went to his class room, where the large majority of his class was already waiting.

“Good afternoon, my excuses for keeping you waiting. Please go to your seats.” He looked over the students, the fifth-year class with Gryffindors.

“I believe that you all have something for me. An essay to hand in, perhaps?” Draco asked. Almost every student took out a piece of parchment from their bags and books, some students having written barely a few lines, others having created an entire booklet of knowledge. James Potter, however, raised his hand.

“Yes, James?”  
“I don’t have my essay.”  
A surprised and loud chatter went up.

“Is that so? Were you not up to the challenge?”  
James frowned and clenched his jaw.  
“I was perfectly able to do as you challenged me to do, professor.”  
“Then why don’t you have your essay? Enlighten me, please, Mr. Potter.”

James looked him in the eye. A smug grin appeared on his face, but vanished after half a second.

“My essay is a report of an extensive experiment. The experiments end today, at five o’clock. I need to measure the results and after that, I need to work those into a passable essay. That is why I don’t have my essay yet.”  
“Sounds like a bad planning,” Draco remarked dryly.

James gritted his teeth. “I started the experiments the day you assigned us this essay. I can have it handed in by nine o’clock this evening.”

Draco took a long look at him, measuring him up and thinking whether he should make this exception. The class was silent as they waited for his verdict. At the one hand, he actually wanted to give James the benefit of the doubt, because he thought James had really done something great, but on the other hand, the class might think he was favouring him because of Potter.

“All right. Nine o’clock, it is. Do not be late. Do not hand in some kind of pathetic excuse for a research. Do not come up with three lines of Hippogriff muck. I have high hopes for you now, James. You better not disappoint me.”

James brightened, visibly surprised that Draco was allowing him this. He smiled and thanked him softly.

“That’s all right. Everyone else, hand it in on my desk, please. It’s categorised by House, because all of you had different kinds of assignment.”

All students rushed forward to hand in their creations, some looking surer about it than others. All of them had a small smile on their face and was enthusiastically explaining to their co-students what they had written about. Draco liked the sort-of unity he saw. It was good. One day, perhaps, House unity would be a thing, and Professor McGonagall could say her goal was achieved.

When dinner was over and Draco was reading some of the essays in his office, a knock sounded on his door and he called for his visitor to enter. He wasn’t surprised to see James standing there, with a large pile of parchment under his arm. He was grinning broadly.

“Good evening, professor,” he greeted.  
“Good evening, come on in. Close the door behind you, please,” Draco smiled, quickly shoving the other essays aside in favour of James’s work.

“Have you finished your research?” Draco asked when James was seated opposite him.  
“I have, yes. My apologies for being late, I had hoped you would understand.”  
“You were quite confident in the worth of your essay, so naturally, I got curious. If it turns out to be an awful piece of work, I will detract points from your grade, and from Gryffindor House. Just so you know.”

James grinned again. “I think it won’t disappoint you. If I did everything correctly, you will be surprised. I hope I haven’t made any mistakes,” he frowned.  
Draco smiled reassuringly. “Mistakes aren’t important. You won’t get the highest grade possible if you make mistakes, but I care more for the amount of work you’ve put in it and what the creative framework of your research is.”

“I still hope I haven’t made any mistakes,” James said stubbornly, his frown and the tilt of his mouth so much like Potter’s, that Draco sighed heavily.  
“Would you like to tell me what your research consisted of, before I start reading it?”  
James laughed now. “No, not really. I don’t think I can handle such pressure right now. When do you think you can have the grades, if I may ask?”  
“I’ll probably be reading all essays as soon as possible. I’m planning on next week to have it done. However, when I’m severely disappointed, I will contact you immediately. The same when your essay is very good, though.”

A smug grin took over James’s entire face and posture. “I think I’ll hear from you tomorrow, first thing in the morning, then.”  
“I don’t think so. I read in order of the Houses, starting with Slytherin, then Ravenclaw, and then either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Nothing prejudiced, just because Slytherin and Ravenclaw work is usually easier to grade. Clearer differences between good and bad.”

James nodded in understanding, but the smugness didn’t leave his face. “You’ll want to read my essay earlier than that.” He stood up to leave the room, but paused at the door, already halfway through the opening.

“Professor Malfoy? I don’t dislike potions that much anymore. The course and the brewing. In fact, it might be one of my favourite courses.”  
Draco smiled at him.  
“Apart from my father, you’re the best teacher I have.”

Draco smiled even broader.  
“Well, I can’t say you’re the best student I have apart from your father, because he was horrible at Potions. But you’re a good student, James. Even if I might challenge you at times.”

James huffed a short laugh and left with a last wave. As soon as the door closed behind him, Draco picked up the essay and started reading. He only left his office once, when he needed to say goodnight to Phi and the others, but didn’t stop reading otherwise, until it was finished.

It turned out that James had tried to create his own potion. It wasn’t a very difficult one, since he had only worked with ingredients he was allowed to work with, but it was impressive, nonetheless. He had asked Neville for help on how to include some tough plants and had gotten in touch with the Ministry Department of Potions and Ingredients. In his essay, he had included an interview with a student of the Potions Mastery, where he had gotten information on the effect of stirring clockwise or anti-clockwise.

The last half of his essay consisted of tables and graphs, visualising the results he had measured when the experiment was over. There were a few things he hadn’t measured, where Draco was rather interested in, but all in all, the work was incredibly well done. James had even incorporated the entire recipe, with every single detail one had to pay attention to written down and explained.

When Draco reached the end, it was somewhere around two o’clock in the evening, and he was tired. He scanned a few paragraphs where the essay wasn’t of the same quality, and marked them with a red-coloured quill. After that, he graded the essay, circled it and stood up. He decided to take the pile of parchment with him to his room, so he didn’t have to order it, this late at night.

In his room, there was a note pasted on his door with a Sticking Charm, only to be read and unstuck by him. Tired as he was, with his eyes falling closed, he just tore the note off, and took it with him inside, as well, placing it on his nightstand, and falling asleep as soon as his head hit his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One!! person guessed the right country! I will contact that person to ask whether they have any wishes for a scene between Harry and Draco, or some kind of other tiny thing, as a price for guessing it correctly.
> 
> I will tell you in the next chapter which country it was.
> 
> XX


	14. The day before everything goes to shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, yay! I couldn't help myself, I just had to update already. This weekend, you'll get another chapter as well, because no matter what happens, you will always get a new chapter in the weekend. I hope.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> And don't forget, this chapter is the beginning of the end, before the end ends and the beginning can begin, so it can be the beginning of the end.

When Draco walked down to the Great Hall, he was carrying James’s essay under his arm. Phi and Cassie had run down as soon as they were both dressed, Ophiuchus obviously morphing into the black-haired energy ball he usually was with his youngest sibling. The twin had been discussing some issue and had disappeared as soon as they turned a corner.

The Great Hall was already full and busy. Potter was seated in his usual spot and smiled at Draco when the latter walked through the doors. Draco nodded back, but turned to the Gryffindor corner, instead of the High Table.

“James,” Draco said when he reached him. The boy turned around with a shocked expression on his face, but quickly greeted with a smile. He became nervous though, when he saw the essay under Draco’s arm.

“Stand up, please, it feels so denigrating to talk to you while you are sitting.” Draco kept his voice deliberately low and neutral, but James was biting his lip anxiously, now. He stood up, however, and faced Draco like his father used to do when Draco and Potter were riling each other up. Draco let a faint smile take over his face, but he wasn't sure whether anyone could distinguish it from his usual expression.

“I read your essay last night, as you suggested,” Draco started. James grinned lightly.  
“And I have a few comments on it.” At this, James’s grin fell and he started to look concerned.

“First of all, it is an incredibly well-written piece of work. Well done. A couple of things were not to my satisfaction, however. I have marked those, so you can review it. If you would want to, I could sit with you and explain my choices.”

Seeing that James was about to think he wrote an abysmal essay, Draco deliberately caught his eye and smiled slightly. He handed over the pile of parchment, but didn’t let go of it when James reached out to receive it.

“But, I am very, very satisfied with your work. Your essay is the only work I have ever read, of which I think it deserves an Outstanding. That includes,” Draco added with emphasis, when he saw James’s eyes widen. “- essays written by Hermione Granger, Severus Snape and myself. Very well done, James. Very well done.”

James was glowing and grinning so widely, that Draco started to fear his face might split. “It worked, then? Did it work? The potion?”

“I haven’t tested it yet. I would like to, if I have your permission. But it doesn’t matter if it works. I told you, it’s about the research and the amount of work. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to break my fast. You did well, James, and I can’t stress that enough. I’m impressed.”

James grinned once more, before Draco started to walk away.

“Professor Malfoy!”  
“Yes?”

James took a few steps so he was closer to Draco and less people would overhear them.  
“I may not be your favourite Potter, but you certainly are my favourite Malfoy. I really admire you. Thank you,” he said sincerely. Before Draco could answer, however, James fled back to his friends and didn’t look up anymore.

Draco swallowed. When he chanced a look at Potter, the latter was already watching him, and waved when they locked eyes. He heard a snicker from his left, where Phi was smirking up at him, being seated at the Gryffindor table.

Salazar. He should have known his children could see every little change in his expressions. He raised them that way. Quickly connecting all the dots, Draco could kick himself for his foolishness. Of course his children had noticed, and of course the Potter children knew what was going on as well.

He sighed once, before striding over to the High Table. If his children knew, and if the Potters knew, and they still responded this easily, then perhaps, all would be right. All would be right.

Breakfast was over and Draco had only just locked the door behind him, when there was a knock on the door. Potter was standing there, with a bright smile and wearing comfy clothes.

“Hi, you free this afternoon?”  
“Ehm, well, yes, I suppose. I was planning on doing some grading, but that can wait, I think.”  
“Good!” Potter stepped inside and dumped himself on the couch.  
“I assume you wanted to hang out?” Draco remarked dryly. The only response was a wide grin.  
“All right. Oh, I have treacle tart, if you want?” Draco offered then, thinking of the tart in his kitchenette. He saw Potter’s jaw slack and he started nodding vigorously. Draco huffed out a laugh at that.

After a few moments, he returned to the living room with a cup of tea –just how Potter liked it- and a slice of treacle tart. Potter thanked him and discreetly sniffed at the tart. When he caught Draco’s eye, he seemed surprised.

“There’s pumpkin in it?”  
Draco nodded. “I don’t know if you like it, but that’s the way I always eat it.”  
That was a lie. Draco knew Potter liked pumpkin juice, so of course he put pumpkin in it.

Potter took a bite and closed his eyes in bliss. “This is incredible,” he said softly. “Where did you buy this?”  
“I made it myself, actually,” Draco answered. Potter’s eyes snapped open at that.  
“You made this yourself?”

Draco nodded again. “Yes. Ehm. I once asked one of the Malfoy house elves for the recipe, and now, it’s one of my regulars. You like it?”  
He didn’t need to ask. The pure enjoyment like a child in a Quidditch shop was clear on Potter’s face.

“I love it.”

Well. Mission accomplished, then.

When Potter had finished his second slice, Draco brought the dishes back to his kitchenette. He was quickly cleaning them, when Potter called from the living room.

“Say Malfoy! I really like these pictures,” he said. 

Draco returned with two tea mugs and a plate of cookies.

“Which pictures?” he asked, joining Potter at the side table, handing him one of the mugs.  
“Look, this one. You carrying the twins. Where was this?”  
“Ah, that’s in the Pyrenees, in the South of France. Mother took that picture. I forgot to bring the carriers to France, that summer, so we ended up carrying the children on our arms the entire time, even while we were climbing. Naturally, we didn’t do very long or strenuous walks. Lovely holiday, it was.”  
“Where’s Astoria? Couldn’t she carry one of them?”  
“She was working in Mother’s house. She didn’t leave her office that holiday.”

Potter nodded and moved on to the next.  
“This one’s adorable! Who is it? Scorpius? He looks like he is barely five months old!”

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. The photo was of a laughing baby, playing with a Wizarding chess set. One colour was charmed to play by itself, while the baby did the other. The blond boy cried out with joy whenever a piece moved.

“That’s me, Potter,” Draco half-whispered. It felt awkward and glorious at the same time, to have Potter looking at his chubby being.  
Potter looked at the picture, stared at Draco and moved his gaze back to the baby. He blushed then, muttering something about it being a nice picture. Then he took a few gulps of his tea and focussed on the next photograph.

That turned out to be a bad decision. Potter very nearly choked on his drink and spluttered his way through an explanation for the high-pitched noise he had made.

“That – That’s you? In France, I think? Yeah, yeah, that’s nice. Good weather, I see. Sweet picture,” Potter mumbled.

“Yes, in France,” Draco couldn’t help but answer a bit smugly. “Last year, that was. Mother had had a swimming pool installed in her holiday home. So we were swimming and playing around a bit, when those four devils of mine decided to push me in the water completely. I don’t usually do that, because the chlorite does horrible things to my hair.” Draco flashed a smile. “So then I had t fight all four of them. Phi climbed on my neck, Cassie and Scorp were pulling at my arms, while Aquila went for the strategy of making me lose my balance. My hair stayed dry, but only because I bribed Scorpius to choose my side. He lifted Cassie off and I was able to pull myself up on the side of the pool, with Phi and ‘Quila still clinging to me.”

Draco smiled at the memory. The picture itself was of him, heaving himself out of the water, with Phi doubling over in laughter and Aquila holding him back at his hips, while Draco was smiling warmly at the person behind the camera.  
He did look good, Draco could admit that much about himself. No wonder Potter liked it. Not that he liked Draco, but he probably appreciated the aesthetic.

“Do you have more pictures?” Potter asked then. “I kind of like them.” His voice betrayed a hint of nervousness, as if he feared Draco would kick him out for asking such a personal thing.

“No, not here, unfortunately. Most of the pictures are at the Manor, where Mother and Father keep them safe. I do have a whole lot of stories.”  
Potter laughed, and they both moved to the sofa to sit down. When Potter looked at him expectantly, Draco sighed and thought about something fun to tell.

“Sometimes, Cassie drives me crazy,” he admitted with a grin. “She is so wild, it’s a miracle she’s still alive and well. Her energy is just too much sometimes. But other times it really lifts the mood.”  
Draco groaned at an upcoming memory, making Potter quirk his mouth into a smile.

“One time, she decided it would be fun to grab her bike and drive down the stairs. Needless to say, it went wrong. She fell when she was trying to slow down, and made a flip in the air. She landed on her back. When she tried to get up, she leaned on her bad arm –which was still completely untreated, then. She spent two weeks in St. Mungo’s, after which she was so full of energy, that she started crossing through the hallways on her bed, while Scorpius pushed her. They slammed into a wall, and Cassie got a concussion. I just can’t believe she’s in Slytherin, with this kind of behaviour,” he chuckled.

Potter laughed heartily at that.  
“Perhaps she isn’t a perfect Malfoy, but she’s a Slytherin, all right. She tried to convince me that she didn’t have to write an essay, because there was something wrong with her mother, and Cassie supposedly needed to be with her all afternoon. I actually believed her and let her go. Turns out, she just wanted to play Quidditch with a few upper years!”

Draco smiled. “That’s Cassiopeia for you. Though I doubt lying is a Slytherin trait. I’d say lying is a trick for people who have no other option. Slytherins make other options.”  
“Yes, but I am a very strict teacher. Lying is the only way to get me to bend the rules for you. And maybe begging.”

It was silent for a bit. Draco wondered if this could be an opening to flirt, or whether Potter truly didn’t know what it had sounded like.

“I remember when I heard Albus got in Slytherin,” Potter continued then. “At the platform, he had asked me what would happen if he turned out to be one. I think we both felt it coming. I was proud, really proud, when I got his letter. I think he might have gotten into another House, had he been adamant. But he got into Slytherin, and he hadn’t resisted one bit.  
After the first pride, I was afraid. Afraid he might not get friends, because he was in Slytherin, or because he was my son. Afraid that he might get bullied.  
And then I got a letter telling me all about his new friend, Scorpius Malfoy. He told me how they had met and how cool Scorpius was. Albus got a lot of confidence from Scorpius, you know. Scorp taught him what he was worth and that he shouldn’t care what people say. He told Albus that everyone said bad things about his father and their family, but that it didn’t matter, because they loved each other. And that that was the most important thing in the world. Albus wouldn’t have been the confident, out-going guy without Scorpius. So I guess I should thank you for raising your son so wonderfully.”

It was silent again, and this time, it was a bit awkward.

“Scorpius was afraid to tell me about Albus, because he knew my history with you. I found out because Aquila, bless her, thought I should know who my son’s best friend was. I’m glad she told me. I sent an owl to tell Scorp I wanted to meet Albus, because he sounded like a great guy. Scorpius then sent a Howler to Aquila, shouting at her for informing me. It kind of hurts to think he was so afraid of me, that he couldn’t tell me he had befriended a Potter. But, since then, he has never kept anything from me. Except for the Terence and Priscus thing, but he has a good enough reason for that.”

Potter looked at his mug, in which he was swirling the brown liquid.  
“I never told them about our childhood rivalry before they asked. I thought they should be unprejudiced.”  
“I told them everything from the moment they were old enough to understand. I wanted them to know who I was, what I’d done, so they would be prepared for the harsh world. And it felt like I would be lying to them, pretend I was a better man than I really am, if I didn’t tell them.”  
“What did Astoria think of that?”

Draco shrugged. “Astoria? She didn’t care. She was rather open-minded about Muggles and such, but in everything else, she was very much a pureblood snob. She used to say that Cassie couldn’t go to the Healers, because she had to learn the hard way to keep calm. She disliked Aquila for not being a Slytherin and ignored all her letters. She hated Phi when he lost his cool and morphed into the black-haired energy ball. Scorpius was the only one who could do things right in her eyes. She doted on him, spoiled and pushed him to his limits, while trying to turn him into one of her puppets.”

Draco snorted softly.  
“Scorpius never really liked her. He always tended to go to me. Even as a toddler, he stayed away from her. Astoria didn’t notice. She also didn’t care when I demanded full parental rights. I can’t believe she never even wants to see them. She hasn’t been back since our divorce.”

Potter nodded. “I never want to give them back to Ginny. I feel like their mine, not hers. It’s ridiculous; she has never been a bad mother, and the children love her. It’s just that… I don’t know… It’s –“

Potter broke off, searching for the right words to describe how he felt.

“It feels like you’ve got more right to be with them, because you know you’ll never get other children. Ginny is engaged now, I hear, and chances are that she will be pregnant again. You won’t have the same experience, you should be able to enjoy them completely,” Draco filled in softly. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Potter sighed, relieved.  
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” He sighed again. “Is that stupid?”

“Yes,” Draco answered easily. “It’s not irrational, though. I feel the same way about my flock, and I am bisexual; I could even get other children.”

Potter’s head snapped up. “You are what now?”  
“Bisexual, Potter. Never heard of it?” Draco asked, a bit sneeringly, but mostly confused.  
“Yes, no, it’s just… I didn’t know. I… What?” Potter babbled.  
“Bisexual? It’s fine, of course it’s fine, I just didn’t know. Kind of surprised here.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “You do know that Astoria and I only married for mutual political benefit, right? Our parents pushed for it. I tend to men, you know, and I needed an heir. She wanted money,” Draco said carefully.

Potter looked at him like Draco had told him he had been there when the Earth was created. 

“It wasn’t exactly a secret, Potter. Everyone knew it. That’s why the papers have always called our marriage disgraceful.”  
Potter still looked at him blankly.

“You do read the papers, right?”  
“Yes, of course I do. I just got tired of reading anything with my or your name in it.”  
“I’m that boring, huh?”  
“No, come on, Malfoy, don’t deliberately misunderstand. It was always the same story; you had been wrong, a disgrace to wizardry, suspicious, a pariah… It just got tiresome to get angry about it every day, you know.”

A small smile played around Draco’s lips.  
“I understand,” he stated simply.

There was silence again. They both sipped from their expensive wine and were lost in their thoughts.

A chuckle pulled Draco out of it.

“There is something Albus told me about you,” Potter said. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “And Phi made me realise why you did it.”

Draco furrowed his brow in question and encouragement to continue.

“When he went home with Scorpius for the first time, he was a bit nervous. Scorpius told him he didn’t need to worry, because you would like him no matter what. Albus said you had overheard their conversation in the other room, and started ranting about broomsticks and snitches and ‘that bloody Potter.’”

Draco felt his cheeks flush. He knew what Potter was hinting at.

“And when Albus and Scorpius entered the room, you stood up and walked up to them. You told them ‘something about ending up with the wrong sort,’ according to Albus, and then offered your hand.”

Draco let his Malfoy mask fall at that, deliberately making it extra haughty.

“Do you regret it, Malfoy?” Potter asked. “Our first meeting? Is that why Ophiuchus insisted you shook my hand, that first night here? Because Merlin knows I regret it.”

“It wasn’t our first meeting, Potter,” Draco managed. “We met at Madame Malkin’s.”  
“You’re avoiding my question.”  
“Yes, Potter, I regret it. If I had been more subtle, you might have been a Slytherin.”

They grinned at each other. 

“You know,” Potter started conversationally. “The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.” He grinned now, happy to be able to surprise Draco like this. His face fell when Draco seemed undisturbed.

“I know,” Draco answered. Potter’s mouth slacked. “How?! I haven’t even told Hermione and Ron?”  
“Potter, up until fifth year, I made sure to know every single thing about you. As opposed to you, I didn’t have anything to do with the things going on outside of Hogwarts until sixth year. You were all I paid attention to. I saw you go into his office, and I listened at the door.”

Potter frowned. “Why did you never bully me with it?”  
Draco winced at the wording, but answered nonetheless. “Do you really think I feel being a Slytherin was reason for bullying? I’m still proud of it, even with everything that’s happened.”

Draco’s eyes sparkled with a challenge, which Potter decided to ignore, and focus on something else instead.

“You never name things as they are, do you? You didn’t say Dumbledore’s name just now, and you never explicitly say something about the war,” he said.

Draco felt his stomach churn, so he stood up and turned away, heading to the kitchenette.  
“More tea?”

Dinner was fine, although Draco had to put in all his energy to ignore the pointed looks of his and Potter’s children, when they appeared in the Great Hall, continuing the conversation they had in Draco’s room. The giggles only became worse, when they also left together and headed to the same room; again Draco’s.

“I have to warn you, Pansy and Blaise are coming over this evening. I guess they will be here in half an hour. You can stay, if you want, but don’t feel pressured,” Draco smiled. Potter shook his head.  
“I’d rather stay, if it’s all the same to you. 

Draco shrugged and they fell into easy conversation again, until a knock sounded on Draco’s door and Pansy and Blaise arrived.

“Harry, good to see you again,” Pansy greeted, giving him a fleeting hug, right after Draco. Blaise raised his eyebrows at Draco in a questioningly manner, and then gave Potter two air-kisses.

“Oh Harry, I wanted to ask you something. Could you take care of Draco a bit? If no one watches him, he will be throwing away his entire inheritance on his clothing alone. You’ll have to watch out for that. Can I trust you with such a task?” Pansy asked, completely innocent.

Draco scowled at her. “Pansy, you haven’t even had a drink yet, and you’re already torturing me. Could you wait with that, at least, until I have drowned a bottle of Firewhiskey?”

Pansy turned to him with the sweetest smile she could muster. “Of course, dear. But I think you should entertain us, first.”  
Blaise shot up from where he was listening to the conversation and joined in. Potter merely laughed, but his smile became challenging when Draco caught his eye.

“Sing for us, Draco darling. You know you want to,” Pansy cajoled. Draco narrowed his eyes, but complied anyways. Of course he wanted to.

Without pause, he swished his wand and music of Let it go filled the room. Draco danced with many dramatic movements, but at a certain point, it seemed like the lyrics hit him deeper than he showed.

“It’s funny how some distance makes everything seem small  
And the fears that once controlled me can’t get to me at all.”  
Draco broke imaginary chains from his wrists and threw his head back, relieved from a heavy burden.

“It’s time to see what I can do  
To test the limits and break through.”  
Movements that were exactly on the beat, where Draco checked his wrist as if checking a watch, his hands imitated mime movements to suggest feeling up a wall, and thrusting his balled fist through the former mentioned wall.

“I’m never going back  
The past is in the past.”  
Turning his back on something, pushing it away and striding forward.

“Let it go, let it go  
And I’ll rise like the break of dawn  
Let it go, let it go  
That perfect girl is gone  
Here I stand in the light of day  
Let the storm rage on  
The cold never bothered me anyway.”  
The high note was hit perfectly, and Draco continued it for a long time, without losing his breath. When he finished singing, his face and posture had taken on something much more determined, much fiercer than was necessary for entertainment.

Pansy let out a whoosh of air as if she had been holding it in, and Blaise smiled faintly.  
“You still got it,” the latter said.

Draco smiled dazedly, catching his breath. When Pansy looked at Potter, she saw his forehead was creased in thought.

“This is our war song, Harry,” she then said. “Draco always used singing and all that to cheer us up, and in fourth year we choose one of those Muggle songs as our war song. You know, to keep us grounded, and a go-to song if we wanted Draco to sing. Let it go is our modern war song, when the war was over, but everybody just hated us.”  
Potter frowned then.

“In fourth year we had another one, Draco, do that one. Do Chiquitita, it’s a fun one,” Blaise added. Draco shook his head.

“No, no, I’m not doing that. Potter has already seen that one.”  
“I only saw the end!”  
“The end is the best, isn’t it?” Pansy crowed. “Oh, the end is good. You saw the sliding?”

Potter laughed and nodded, but his answer was drowned out by Blaise.

“Draco! You have to do our fifth year war song! You just have to!” he cried.

Draco was desperately shaking his head, but when Pansy joined in, he knew he would cave eventually. He sighed, waved the lights out and went to stand in his starting position.

“Do the original, Draco, it has to be the original,” Pansy said.  
“I am Obliviating you after this, Potter,” Draco ground out. Potter chuckled behind him.

The music started and Draco waved the lights back on, throwing a smirk over his shoulder and winking at Blaise. He started moving when he also started singing, but the music stopped abruptly.

“Draco Malfoy, I demand you do the original!” Blaise’s voice boomed. “And you haven’t forgotten your fifth-year promise, have you?”

Draco’s eyes shot up to his friend. Of course he remembered the promise. He only promised as much to cheer up Pansy when she was having a very difficult week. And how he regretted that promise now.

“Oh, of course, the promise! How could we have forgotten?” Pansy grinned wickedly. “Do we need to reiterate it, or can you remember it by yourself?”  
“I know what I promised, Pans. But do I really have to –“  
“Yes!” three voices chorused. Potter shrugged at Draco’s raised eyebrow.  
“I’m merely curious as to what has your knickers in a twist.”

Draco sighed. His promise, right. Pansy had had the most awful week, and so Draco had cheered her up by promising something horrible. His dance routine on their fifth-year war song, I Will Survive, was of a rather sensual nature. And he had –horribly, regrettably, stupidly- promised, that if he ever had the chance to perform in front of Potter, he would be the focus of his attention.

“I am going to Obliviate you and me both, Potter,” he murmured in a sigh. He saw Blaise grinning and Pansy looking completely innocent.

Draco waved his wand again to turn off the lights and started his dance routine, not forgetting to look at Potter at the most explicit moves and making good use of the control he had over his body. He even walked closer to Potter, stood right in front of him while trailing a soft finger up Potter’s Adam’s apple. He smirked when he felt Potter swallow and couldn’t contain his grin at the embarrassed look after Draco hunched and opened his legs wide.

The music ended, so Draco sunk in the sofa and kicked his feet up.

“Well done, Draco, you were in top form,” Pansy said smugly. “It’s almost as if you had an ulterior motive.”

Draco merely scowled at her, but Potter snorted out a laugh.  
“That was gold, Malfoy, really. Although you have given me a new nightmare,” he chuckled.  
“Then just go to Draco again, I doubt he would mind,” Blaise remarked.

Pansy clapped in her hands with glee. “How to sleep with Draco: tell him you had a nightmare. Downside: all you will do, is sleep.”

Draco huffed in mock indignation.

“How are your nightmares, by the way, Harry? Are they still as bad?” Pansy then asked, suddenly serious. Potter blinked at her change in tone, but shrugged when Draco sent him a concerned glance.

“They’re okay. Not much different than they have always been. It’s just easier to have someone I can go to with the worst of them.”

Pansy started to say something, but Draco cut in, rather brusquely.

“What do you mean by ‘the worst of them’?” he demanded. “You don’t come to me with every nightmare you have?”  
Potter looked at him and shook his head, while doing a one-shouldered shrug. “No, of course not. I-“

“Potter, why don’t you come to me with every nightmare? Is that hero complex of yours still unsolved?”  
“Malfoy, I would disturb you every single night if I would come here with every nightmare. You have to sleep, as well,” Potter defended himself.  
“I don’t care about that. My sleep will be disturbed anyways; because of Cassie or because of myself. So don’t you dare worry about any of that. It’s my business.”  
“And my sleep is my business. I’m fine,” Potter continued stubbornly.  
“No, you’re not. I can see you practically falling asleep in the morning, but I thought you had just forgotten to finish some grading. And it’s not like I’m going to sleep, now that I know you could be having a nightmare right that moment.”

Potter sighed. He seemed resigned.

“Potter, promise me that you will always come to me when you have a nightmare. No matter what happens, no matter what kind of dream it, could you just come to me?” Draco pleaded softly. He saw Pansy and Blaise share a loaded look from the corner of his eyes, but chose to ignore it.

“Okay. Yeah, okay, I… I will, Malfoy. Because it’s not like I can scare you with my fears, right?”  
Draco felt tension leave his body and nodded. “Right.”

The door flung open and Ophiuchus stormed in.  
“Hi Pansy and Blaise, hi Mr. Harry, hi papa! Papa, can I stay up some longer today? It’s Sunday, it’s still weekend. Please?”  
“No, tomorrow is another weekday. You’ll be grumpy in the morning. Go to your room, I’ll come say goodnight in a minute, yes?”

Phi scrunched up his nose in dislike, but gave Pansy and Blaise both a quick hug. “When will we go to Diagon again, Pansy? I want to go shopping in your fancy clothing shops,” he asked sweetly. Pansy just laughed and assured him it would be soon. Blaise received somewhat the same treatment. Phi hesitated a second, but then flung his arms around Potter before tumbling of to his bedroom.

Potter watched him leave and turned back to the conversation, but not without catching Draco’s eye. They smiled at each other. 

When Phi was safely sleeping, the Silencing Charm was installed and wine had been poured, the conversation flowed easily between the four of them. At midnight, a soft, urgent knock on the door made them all look up.

“I think it’s Cassie,” Draco whispered, while he freed himself from the cosy positions the four of them had taken. He was right. With trembling lips and teary eyes, his youngest daughter threw herself at him.

“Papa,” she said weakly, slightly muffled by Draco’s shirt, in which she had buried her face. Draco nodded, although Cassie couldn’t see him.

“Phi’s in the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly, all right?” he asked. Cassie only clung tighter and looked up. Draco’s breath hitched at the sight.

“It was a really bad one, then? It’s all right, I’m here now,” he reassured her. Together they walked to the living room, where Potter and Pansy were cleaning up, while Blaise was collecting his their things. Cassie didn’t even greet any of them.

Potter looked up and smiled. “We should go,” he spoke. Draco nodded, and his guests were gone before he could say anything else. He quickly carried Cassie to the bedroom and cuddled up with her on his bed, without changing in his pyjamas. He didn’t think Cassie could handle being away from him, right now.

When the door closed, Potter kept looking at it and frowned. Pansy softly touched his arm to catch his attention.

“Harry… I think there is something you don’t understand about Draco,” she said gently. Potter nodded to indicate he was listening.

“There is a reason why he wants you to come to him with your troubles. Blaise, come here, don’t leave yet. Listen Harry, Draco is very possessive, over his things but also his friends and family. The possessiveness is very often channelled through overprotectiveness. He freaks out if he notices that one of his friends isn’t doing well.”

Blaise nodded. “He hasn’t told you, but the only reason I have a job, is because of him. He guaranteed my employer that if anything went wrong, Draco would take all the blame.”  
“And I was about to lose my house and everything I owned after the war, because I had no money anymore. He loaned me millions, Harry, to ensure I could still live in the house I grew up. And Gregory…”

Blaise and Pansy shared a look. “Gregory is a gambler, but he isn’t very good. There are big guys hunting on him. Draco transfers money to Greg’s bank account, so Greg can pay off his creditors. Draco thinks we don’t know, but we do,” Blaise then added.

“And so, he needs to be able to take care of someone. If we deny him that, he’ll go crazy. Him putting his foot down in helping you with every nightmare is a sign of that. But you’ll have to make a choice, Harry.” Pansy swallowed, as if the next part would be difficult. Then she raised her chin defiantly and a dangerous spark lit up her eyes.

“You either be his friend, and let him in completely, or you walk away now. There is no in between. I will personally make sure you will regret it if you keep him dangling. All or nothing, that’s your choice.”

Potter gazed at his feet, but quickly looked up when Pansy was done. “I’m all in. I am completely in. I’ll be his friend for as long as he wants me to. I promise that.”

Pansy seemed to want to say more, but Blaise pulled her away.  
“As long as you remember that you promised. Slytherins usually keep their promises, for reputation’s sake,” Blaise offered softly. Potter smiled back.  
“Luckily Gryffindors do that too. For honour’s sake. Thank you, both. You really are good friends to him.”

“You, too,” was their parting answer.

Potter didn’t sleep well that night. Draco didn’t either. The Malfoy and Potter children are slept dreadfully.

As if all of them knew that the happy place they had been living in, would crumble very soon, and leave nothing more but ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BY THE WAY
> 
> With this chapter, I hit the 50,000 mark AND the 100 pages mark (that usually goes together, but I don't care). WHOOHOO. Are you proud of me? Please tell me you are proud of me. I am proud of me. I never thought this story would be so long, and we're not even halfway.
> 
> And I just noticed that many words that are supposed to be in italics, aren't. So now I'm grumpy, because they are supposed to, and it's the same story in other chapters and I have no energy to correct it all. So sorry, because it might make reading weird.


	15. Everything breaks down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. So yeah, everything goes to shit. Sorry.

At breakfast the next day, Aquila decided to sit with her siblings at the Slytherin table. Matias gave her a questioning look when she didn’t walk towards the Ravenclaws, but started talking to his other Housemates. Albus walked to James and Lily a few times, and spoke enthusiastically and with glimmering eyes. Ophiuchus was clearly happy as well, because his hair was jet-black and his hands moved greatly when he’s talking. And even though Cassie looked tired and worn out, she added her own insights to the discussion Scorpius and Aquila were having.

“No, no, it’s obvious! Scorp, trust me, I’ve heard it myself. You know I spend my time in the greenhouses, right? And one day, I was there, and papa and Neville came in. And papa admitted out loud that he likes Harry. Why don’t you believe me?”

Scorpius sighed. “I do believe you, Cassie, you know I do. But I just don’t think it’s time yet. We should wait some longer.”  
“Why would we wait, if they are so clearly gone?” Aquila pressed.  
“Because! Papa has only admitted to it a few days back, we can’t force him into anything just yet. And what about Harry, what do we know about him?”

“Don’t worry about him, dad is just as bad as your papa,” Albus cut in. “I mean, he might not have said it out loud, but he has talked about your papa many times now. Once, he even talked to Lills about it and he said that perhaps he should work on his poker face, because he was sure it was written in his every look.”  
“You’re supposed to choose my side, you know,” Scorpius said lightly. “But still, papa isn’t ready. He is far too afraid of what people might say.”

“There is nothing he should be afraid of, reasonably speaking,” Aquila remarked.  
Cassie nodded. “Exactly, and if you don’t try, how can you know if it works out?”

“Can I say something?” Ophiuchus piped up. “So yes, it’s obvious, they like each other a lot. And Mr. Harry has admitted as much, and papa has definitely admitted it. And reasonably speaking, there is nothing papa should be afraid of. But that’s just it, isn’t it? The papers are already not very favourable about us Malfoys, no matter what we do. Papa is afraid they would turn his friendship or whatever with Mr. Harry into something bad, which could break our family forever. Let’s face it, he would do anything to keep us safe and out of harm’s way.”

Scorpius agreed. “Exactly! If papa is still so insecure about all this, he won’t appreciate our interference. When the world has proven that they don’t have anything against his friendship with Harry, we can do whatever we want. But right now, it’s still too soon.”

“Are you sure? Because from what I know of Mr. Malfoy, he wouldn’t take that chance, even if the papers are all right with it. Taking such a risk could possibly harm his reputation, and you know his reputation is his only armour. So I’m not convinced he will take initiative in this matter,” Albus countered, with affirmative hums from Cassie and Aquila.

“That is where we come in!” Phi exclaimed. “He won’t take initiative, but he will accept our help. When he is ready,” he added with more emphasis. “Right now, however, he won’t. He will think we are meddling in his business and he’ll get angry. We should wait, at least until papa is more comfortable with his own feelings. You know how he gets when other people push him into admitting what he feels. He hates that! Let him take his own time!”

“Besides, I think the papers have been suspiciously quiet on their friendship and on papa’s work here. We should wait and see what they’re saying, before we jump in and recklessly ruin whatever papa has built up for himself,” Scorpius said wisely.

“You’re just sceptical. You are too much like papa for your own good. You can’t trust anyone,” Cassie challenged him.  
Scorpius merely shrugged. “A little strategy can’t hurt.”

After breakfast, there were lessons. Cassie had just had her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and was packing up her things, when Potter called her to stay a bit longer.

“I will write you a note for your next professor, don’t worry. I just needed to talk a bit. Are you okay, after last night?” Potter asked.

Cassie smiled up at him. “A little tired, but I’ll catch up tonight. My homework for tomorrow is done, so I can slip in bed after dinner.”  
“Good. Would you like to talk about your nightmares? Your fa-papa told me that it’s important to talk about bad dreams.”

Cassie hesitated for a moment, but sat down at a table in the first row. When she started talking, her voice was wavering a bit.

“They’re terrifying.” She paused. “Papa assures me they’re just dreams, but it’s still scary, you know? I mean, I always have the same dreams. One of them is of a young, blonde girl in a slimy dungeon. She’s thin and pale, and no one feeds her. But for some reason, she keeps smiling and she stays optimistic to the other people in the dungeon.”

What? Potter felt a shudder along his spine.

“And I dream of people being tortured, not only with the Cruciatus, but also with Muggle torture devices. They are tortured until they’re begging to die, and then, when they’ve recovered a bit, they are tortured again. It’s really very disgusting,” Cassie continued, fiddling with her hands and looking down at the ground.

“If you don’t want to…” Potter said softly. Cassie just shook her head and swallowed.

“Nothing to be afraid of. They’re just dreams. I also dream of a boy, I don’t always see his face very well, and he’s under Imperius to torture one of his classmates. A girl he admired, I think, because he really doesn’t want to harm her. And I see Muggles dying by a… Well, I think it’s the Killing Curse.”

Potter’s stomach churned and twisted, his breath heavy and his face contorted in a frown so deep, it almost hurt him.

“And… and I see a –a snake. Ready to attack, with its mouth open and fangs out. It- it really is scary, I don’t want to see it, please help,” Cassie whispered. Potter rushed to her and collected her in his arms, rocking and shushing softly.

“Shh, Cassie, calm down. Shh.”

It didn’t work. Cassie only moved away from him whenever he made the shushing sounds. Finally, Potter understood.  
Cassie was so afraid of the snake, which was undoubtedly Nagini, that the shushing sounded too threatening – too much like a snake. 

Potter then clamped his mouth shut, only cradling Cassie closer. A few minutes passed, in which Cassie calmed down enough for Potter to let her go.

“And last night was the worst one yet.” Her eyes were watery, but she seemed determined to continue. “I saw papa – I know it was him, because he looked so much like Scorpius. Papa was being tortured by a creepy man with red eyes, the man that appears in many nightmares. Papa was screaming and crying. The man was angry with him, I don’t know why, but apparently papa had done something wrong.  
And then, papa stopped moving, stopped making sounds. I could only see him breathing. And the man continued to torture him, and Grandfather –I recognise him very well– was watching and not doing anything. And papa was dying, he was almost dead, but then another man with black hair stopped the creepy man. Everyone left, and papa just laid there, barely alive. And then I woke up.”

There was one wet trail on her cheek. Potter was stunned into silence while he wiped it away.

“I have to go. See you later, Mr. Potter,” Cassie smiled faintly. Potter only notified it somewhere deep in his consciousness.

“Papa says they’re just dreams,” the girl added, right before she would close the door behind her. “Nothing to worry about.”

Potter kept still, his hands shaking.

Just dreams. There were not just dreams. 

Merlin, how had Draco bloody Malfoy not turned psychotic?

Right then and there, Potter decided that he would keep the promise he made to Pansy and Blaise the night before. He had chosen to be friends with Draco, and he would never make Draco doubt such a thing.

Draco deserved no less.

Unfortunately, Potter wouldn’t get the chance to prove he was willing to keep his promise, and Scorpius was right in wanting to wait. Because that evening, during dinner, everything Draco had feared before coming to teach at Hogwarts, would happen.

Draco shouldn’t have befriended Potter, and Merlin knows, he shouldn’t have fallen for him. His children shouldn’t have to be burdened by Draco’s mistakes, and honestly, Draco shouldn’t have become a father in the first place.

He knew these things, he has told himself to keep his distance and to protect his monsters, but he couldn’t. And now, those monsters he was supposed to take care of, were taking the brunt of Draco’s stupidity.

At dinner, Draco and Potter were having the same kind of calm conversation as the other evening, starting with how the media always portrayed James as the perfect copy of Potter, while Lily was a gentler version of Ginny, and Albus was the Sign that the Hero of the Wizarding World would never prejudice Slytherins.

“But in reality, I wouldn’t know which one of my children most resembles me. They’re all part of me, part of Ginny and part of themselves. It’s odd to divide them like the media does,” Potter complained. Draco just huffed a laugh.

“Who resembles you most, then?” Potter asked after a silent second.  
“According to the media, it’s Scorpius. Some people fear him, because they think he is a second me, and he could kill them with a glare. Luckily, he is able to laugh it off.”  
“But you don’t think he is most like you?”  
“Not really. Most of my friends think it’s Aquila, with her sharp wit and strategic thinking. Mother says it’s Ophiuchus, because Phi knows exactly what people’s weaknesses are and how to work them so they do what he wants. And Phi is highly aware of when he has to be calm and collected and representing the Malfoy line, or when he can let go and climb trees and dance on the table.”

Potter laughed.  
“And in that, Phi resembles you? To be honest, I don’t see you dancing on a table.”  
“Oh yes, I was the master of climbing trees. I stopped because my father expected different things from me,” Draco answered easily.  
“Like what?”  
“You know what.”  
“I do. But when did he start expecting those things? I’ve never seen you dance on a table or climb trees.”

Draco snorted. “I believe I have shown you my tree-climbing skills once. And I am very dramatic when with friends. My father just wanted me to be more poised, and that started when I went to Hogwarts.”

“You were so young, why then?” Potter asked cautiously. Draco made a careless movement.  
“Because my father thought you were a dark wizard, and he wanted me to befriend you. So that was the first task I got, and the first task I failed to do.”

It was silent for a long moment, but Potter interrupted the silence with a soft apology.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s over and done now. After that, I failed many more tasks that were much more important. For example, when you won from me, every Quidditch game we played, or how Hermione would always beat me with every test. I became a disappointment because I wasn’t the best, and then I turned out to be incapable of being a Death Eater. At a certain point, neither of us expected me to do what I was told. My father was greatly surprised when I was able to fix the Vanishing Cabinet.”

Potter gaped at him, eyes full of pity. Draco waved that away as well.

“My childhood wasn’t bad, really. In fact, I had a very happy childhood. The only problem was my teenage years. But those years were bad for every one of our age. I’m not exactly an exception.”  
“No, but you did see things you weren’t supposed to see, and you had responsibilities you shouldn’t have had to have,” Potter argued.  
“So? The same goes for you. And for many Death Eater children, and your Weasley friends, and Hermione. I’m not saying it was good, because it wasn’t, but I am saying that I am over it. My life turned out better than I could have hoped, I have four perfect children and a job I quite frankly enjoy. And as I said, I love the memories I have from before Hogwarts. My father really was a good father, you know.”

Draco saw Potter’s face turn in a scowl, and he heard a sarcastic reply under Potter’s breath.  
“Yes, he was,” Draco returned, even though he hadn’t heard exactly what Potter said.  
“I have many happy memories with him. He was just blinded by his own ambitions, and didn’t listen to the rationality that was my mother. He still won’t. It’s a bad Malfoy trait.”

Potter just sighed.  
“Okay,” he acquiesced. “I don’t like what he pushed you into, but okay. It’s your father, after all.”

Draco nodded, and they went on to different, less harmful subjects.

That was, until Draco saw something from the corner of his eye, and he blanched. He knew, based on Potter’s stiffening next to him, that Potter had seen it, too.

“Ophiuchus,” he said in the commanding tone he had learned from his father. While he wasn’t yelling, the entire Great Hall could hear him, and everyone’s eyes landed on his youngest son.

Phi himself turned around with such speed that the turn was barely visible. The cup he had been holding, clattered on the ground. Due to shock, he quickly dropped the appearance he had taken on, and he turned into the mini-Potter he usually was when he couldn’t contain his emotions.

With as much calm Draco could muster, he stood up and walked to Ophiuchus, all the while keeping stern eye contact with him. Draco felt every single eye pinned on him and what he would do.

Draco passed his son and walked out of the Great Hall, completely confident that Phi would follow him. The whispers he heard behind his back had Draco clenching his fists by his side.

How could he have been so incredibly stupid? Why on Earth would Ophiuchus have done such a thing? What was he thinking? What would happen with Draco and his family, now? How could he protect his children from hurt and total exclusion?

Draco knew it was his fault, he knew he shouldn’t have gotten close to Potter. He knew that it would, eventually, all break down, and bring his children to ruin. He didn’t care for himself or his parents; they were already doomed in the public’s eye.

But now, one of his children had made a mistake, and a huge one at that. Everything Draco had done since the war, were for naught.

Because Ophiuchus had morphed into the Dark Lord, in front of all students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

And what was Draco supposed to do now?

At the same time, Potter had stood up from his seat at the table, sent a reassuring smile to McGonagall, and strode towards to Gryffindor table. A few glances shared with James and Lily told him which Gryffindor students had been talking to Phi. The boy and girl responsible, Keira and Arthur, were grinning behind their hands, and didn’t see Potter coming.

Potter grabbed the collars of their robes and lifted them up from their chairs.  
“With me, now,” he growled. Pushing them in front of him, not caring for gentleness or kindness, he marched them towards a silent corridor to have a very rigid interrogation. Because no matter what everyone said about the Malfoy family, Potter knew Draco would never allow his children to do such a thing, and Ophiuchus would never do something like this without being bullied into it.

Draco stopped walking somewhere in the dungeons and he swirled around to face Ophiuchus.  
“What were you thinking exactly?” he demanded, his voice still sharp and as cold as he could against his own flesh and blood.

Ophiuchus fidgeted, head bent to face the ground and feet pointed inwards. When Draco commanded that he looked up, his eyes were filled with unshed tears and his mouth was twitching in an attempt not to cry.

“They said the only reason I could morph between blond and black, was because you had given me some potion so I would be more interesting for the media. They said all you wanted was attention. That you were bad, and that you didn’t deserve to live. And because of that, I didn’t deserve to live and ‘Quila and Scorp and Cassie neither. And many other bad things.”

Draco frowned. His features softened somewhat, and he crouched down to Phi’s level.

“Then why did you morph into him?” he asked gently.  
“Because they said I couldn’t. They said that if I was really worthy of being alive, worthy of being at Hogwarts, if I was really allowed to roam the Earth, I should at least prove I was capable of morphing into others than just black and blond. They said I should change into him, just to demonstrate that you hadn’t raised a disgusting half-human half-monster.”

Draco felt anger coiling in his stomach, and it must have shown in his eyes, because Phi was curling in on himself and inching away from him. Not allowing that, Draco pulled Phi close and placed a few soft kisses on his son’s crown.

“Sweet, sweet Ophiuchus. How often do I have to tell you? You are worth everything. You are my son, and you can be proud of who you are. Every mistake I made, was my fault and mine only. You shouldn’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t deserve to live. Love, I don’t want you to think so badly of yourself.” When he felt Phi nod against his chest, Draco dared continue on a sterner note.

“But never are you allowed to morph into him of all people. He was a bad man, a very bad man. Never can you say anything in his favour, or draw him, or picture him in any way. That was very bad of you, and I am angry at you for doing it. I understand, but I am still angry.”

Phi nodded again, while a sob racked his body. Draco merely held him tighter.

“Ophiuchus, listen. Next time anyone says anything bad about you, because you are my son, I want you to say the following. All right?” Phi hummed in agreement.  
“I want you to say: ‘I know what my papa did, and it was bad of him. But I don’t have anything to do with that, because my papa has changed. And if you have any problem with that, you go to him and tell him why you don’t like him. But I am Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy, and I am proud of my siblings and myself. We have done nothing wrong. If you want to be angry, be angry at my papa, not at me.’ And then you turn your back on them and ignore them until they apologise. You understand?”

Ophiuchus extracted himself from Draco’s arms and looked into his father’s eyes, sniffling lightly. He smiled when he nodded, though, so Draco counted it as a win.  
“I am Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy, and I am very proud of my papa,” he whispered. Draco swallowed thickly.

“And I’m sorry for what I did.”

Draco nodded. “It’s all right. You won’t do it again.”

They hugged again, and Draco felt three other bodies press close.

Their family might be all right, but Draco would still have to find a way to fight the entire world and face the entire Hogwarts student body.

And he would start by extracting himself from Potter. If he didn’t interact with Potter anymore, no one would have any reason to think badly of him and to think he was up to something. He could protect his children this way, and that was what he was going to do. Even if he didn’t want to.

Starting tomorrow, Draco would go back to his cold behaviour towards Potter. How he looked forward to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ophiuchus is named after Sirius. Draco is a sentimental bastard.
> 
> And the one person who had guessed my home country right, doesn't respond. So: the first person to guess from which country I am, will get a prize.
> 
> What is this prize? Well; you can choose one trope/scene/something you really really really want me to write, and I'll write it. So start guessing!


	16. The cold returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yay. I don't even know, why I'm updating this already...

“So, are you going to tell me what you were thinking?” Potter barked to the two smug-looking Gryffindors in front of him. They were in some corridor close to the Defense classroom. Keira sent him a grin.

“We didn’t do anything. That kid just morphed into Voldemort, because he admires him. You know how the Malfoys are,” she said proudly.  
Potter merely clenched his fists.

“And the fact that he was standing with us, doesn’t mean anything,” Arthur added.

“Doesn’t it? Because frankly, I know the Malfoys, and I am quite sure Ophiuchus does not admire Voldemort.”  
“Why wouldn’t he? His father is a Death Eater!”  
“He used to be. And that does not mean he still supports those ideals,” Potter defended, voice low and dangerous. Keira did not seem to notice the warning.

“I bet he does, though. He’s a filthy Slytherin, the only one of his family that isn’t polluted by his disgusting ideas, is Aquila. She’s different in every aspect, but the rest of them shouldn’t be allowed in this school!” Keira yelled.

Potter felt an angry flush creep up his neck and he rolled his shoulders to relieve some of his tension.

“Keira, I’m warning you. Say one more bad thing about the Malfoy family, and I will personally escort you home. Professor Malfoy’s children have done nothing wrong, and Professor Malfoy himself has paid for his missteps.” The moment he said it, Potter realised it was the wrong thing. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him and took a step forward.

“But that is just it, isn’t it? He hasn’t paid for them. He was given leeway because you spoke for him. And that is totally unfair. He should be in Azkaban, or get the Kiss or something. But he should definitely not be teaching us, here at Hogwarts.” Arthur got even closer and peered up in Potter’s eyes.

“He wasn’t punished, but instead got a new house, married and lived happily ever after. Don’t you care about those he killed? People he murdered and tortured?”

Potter grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him close.  
“Let me tell you one thing, Arthur. He has paid enough. Let the war behind you. How can you expect the Malfoy family to move on and prove themselves, if you don’t give them a chance?”

The look on Keira’s face told Potter that he should let go and get a bit of distance between him and the students. He sent them one foul look and strode back to the Great Hall. He was looking for Scorpius or Cassie or Aquila, but they had all left. The chattering subsided when he walked in. Albus sent him a grateful look and a thumbs up, but that was all the response he got.

None of the Malfoys appeared in the Great Hall or anywhere else in the public hallways that day. Potter thought it would be unwise to disturb Draco that evening for a friendly drink, so he hoped Draco would be present the next morning at breakfast.

He had promised Pansy that he was all in, and he wanted to stay true to it.

The day after that, Draco felt awful. He was more than just afraid that his children would suffer from public humiliation and prejudice, and he couldn’t even imagine how much it would hurt them to lose their friends. 

He had picked out one of his ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ robes; black, well-fitted robes with filling in the shoulders and made of a very expensive and beautiful material. His children were already in the Great Hall, except for Ophiuchus.

Right before Draco would turn the corner that would lead to the Great Hall, he stopped and took a few deep breaths. He raised his chin and adopted the proudest expression he could muster without seeming smug and arrogant. When he entered the Great Hall, he refused to make eye contact with anyone that wasn’t his flesh and blood, and calmly walked up to the High Table. Ophiuchus trailed behind him, gaze pointed to the floor in front of him and shoulders slumped.

“Ophiuchus, raise your chin. You are still a Malfoy,” Draco chided him softly, as gently as he could. Phi made a sound like an agreement, and straightened his back. At the same time, he morphed into his Malfoy exterior, and became the perfect picture of poise and Malfoy strength. Draco’s mouth twitched up in a smile and Scorpius, at his right hand, smiled broadly at them both.

The most surprising thing came when he sat down, though. He ignored Potter’s inquisitive looks and shrugged of the hand that he put on Draco’s shoulder. Aquila gave him a pointed look towards the Gryffindor table, where James was sitting on the complete opposite end of the table than Keira and Arthur.

But most of all, Lily wasn’t seated at the Gryffindor table. Draco let his gaze wander and saw her, a bit squirmy and nervous, laughing with Cassiopeia about something in the book in front of them. Their white-blond and bright red hair contrasted brightly as they pushed their heads together to whisper something.

“When your children walked in, Lily just stood up and brought all her stuff over to the Slytherin table. It turns out that she and Cassie have had many conversations lately, but they wouldn’t tell me what it was about,” Potter said fondly.

Draco sighed inwardly. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t ask anymore,” he replied curtly, hoping his voice was icy enough that Potter would get the hint.

Of course he wouldn’t. Oblivious, thick-headed runt. 

“I guess I should let them have their secrets, indeed. But I was just wondering. Say, did you –“

Draco ignored the rest of what Potter was saying, because Ophiuchus was standing next to his chair with a puppy-look on his face. Draco slid his chair away from the table so his youngest son could climb on his lap. In the middle of Potter’s sentence, Draco started his own conversation with Phi.

That got the message over to Potter. He snapped his mouth shut and looked slightly hurt, but shrugged and continued eating. However, when Draco and Phi left to the Potions classroom without as much as a glance or a nod, Potter managed to actually let out a whiny sound of protest. Phi looked over his shoulder and waved, but didn’t go back to Potter.

The lessons that day were stilted and awkward, especially the Slytherin-Gryffindor class. Luckily, it wasn’t a year with Potter or Malfoy children, and Keira and Arthur weren’t there either. No student protested when Draco was a bit more strict than usual, and there were only a few who sent Phi scornful glances.

Those people were saddled with cauldron cleaning duty of that afternoon, which was horrible, because they had made a foul smelling potion.

During lunch, a single owl flew inside and landed neatly on Draco’s shoulder. Draco recognised him as one of the Manor’s owls. The letter was from his mother, and said:

Dear Draco,

As you might know, tonight is a small event-meeting of SPEW. Since I am in the board, I am required to attend, but I do not wish to go alone. Would you be able to accompany me? If I do not receive a cancelation before 15.00 hours today, I will assume that I can expect you at 18.00 hours at the Manor.

The dress code is midnight blue, and besides that, you are expected to have a house-elf somewhere on your clothing, either in badge or picture. If you do not have something like that, I can arrange an extra badge for you.

Will I see you this evening?

Love &c  
Your mother  
Narcissa Black Malfoy

After reading it, Draco sighed heavily. He sent the owl away, because he would make time if his mother needed his attendance. He taught his afternoon classes while racking his wardrobe mentally to see if he had anything that would fit the dress code and the additional demand for a house-elf’s likeness.

Only when he told his children that he would be gone that evening, and asked Phi if he would be all right to sleep in Scorpius’s bed, Cassie reminded him that he had robes, made especially for the support of SPEW.

He pulled the robes out of his wardrobe and eyed them critically. They would do. They were indeed made in support of SPEW. A few years back, SPEW had asked everyone to wear SPEW-supporting clothing on the day they would be trying to get a new law through the parliament. That was the year his mother had joined the board, so obviously Draco had needed to show himself in SPEW-supporting robes.

The robes were the exact colour of the logo, and there were many house-elf figurines on it, all charmed to move. Some Apparated to another spot, others waved and even different ones were carrying protest signs. It was tastefully done, even if they were a bit childish. It didn’t really matter.

Draco quickly changed in the SPEW robes and grabbed an apple to eat on his way to the Manor. His children waved him away when he worried whether he should leave them alone, and then he was standing in front of his childhood home. A house-elf opened up for him and squealed when she caught sight of the robes.

“Tinky will inform Mrs. Malfoy of your arrival, Mr. Malfoy,” she said happily.  
“No, never mind. I’m right here, Tinky. Draco, you look lovely. I had almost forgotten you owned those robes! They look good on you, dear,” Narcissa said while she glided down the stairs.

“Mother,” Draco greeted her with a warm smile, kissing her on both cheeks. “You look very well yourself. New gown?” he asked after he had taken her in. She was wearing a dark blue gown with sparkles in the shape of house-elves. The sparkles made her gown look like a midnight sky with stars, and they were so small that it wasn’t annoyingly obvious in what shape they were.

“Oh no, I merely had Madam Malkin adapt them minimally. Would you say hello to your father, while I gather my things? He is in the library.”

Draco smiled in acquiescence and let her walk to the drawing room, as Draco moved to the library.

“Good evening, Father. How are you?” Draco said. Lucius looked up, startled, but invited his son closer.

“Very well, thank you. I was just reading this book about the history of house-elf employment. Basically, they asked to be employed by Wizards, because they found their lives to be useless.”  
Draco chuckled. “I don’t think either SPEW or the house-elves themselves appreciate being reminded of that. Are you attending, as well?”  
“No, your mother thought it’d be wiser if I stayed home. You know how I get in political discussions,” Lucius grumbled. “Apparently, it’s not proper to fight an organisation on their standings on an event like this.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco picked a book from one of them shelves and started leafing through it. “Father, you know more than anything what is proper and what not. And how you get in political discussions is very much not appropriate, especially in these times.”

“Exactly. So I won’t be attending many more of these evenings. You are my replacement,” Lucius pointed out.  
“As long as you don’t think I will be representing you as well. I am trying to make my own decisions and statements. I won’t be replacing you in every matter.”  
“Yes, I know. Your mother is waiting for you,” his father said then, turning back to his book. Draco smiled, put the book back and went downstairs, where his mother was indeed waiting.

They Apparated to the front door of the event hall, where house-elves were darting around with broad smiles on their faces. The spacious ball room was decorated in blue and silver, a few posters with SPEW’s viewpoints explained in persuasive sentences.

“Mother, have you designed those posters?” The viewpoints were masterly worded, carefully chosen formulations that were just manipulative enough to get everyone to support SPEW, even if only out of fear for public shaming.

Narcissa merely smiled serenely and introduced Draco to some members of the board. All was well, until Draco spotted Hermione Granger. His mother tugged him along, right in Hermione’s direction.

“Draco, Ms. Granger and I are on polite terms now, so I would like you to be kind to her. Of course, she is Mr. Potter’s best friend, so I expect you’ll be nice if only for his sake. I was very glad to hear from Cassie that you were getting close. It’s good that you are making friends. Oh look, here we are.”

Hermione turned to them when Narcissa called her name, but her smile visibly faltered when she saw Draco.

“Ms. Granger, a pleasure to see you again,” Draco spoke, before it could get awkward.  
“It’s been a long time since we spoke, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione returned coolly.  
“Please, call me Draco. I don’t particularly go by my last name anymore. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Hermione’s expression softened somewhat, but her eyes stayed fierce and demanding.  
“All right, Draco. Your mother has been of great help with publicity and rallying of support. We appreciate her work.”

This brought a smile on Draco’s face, especially when he saw how happy his mother was, mingling with everyone around.  
“Yes. It may be an unpopular opinion, but the pureblood raising does give one great experience in gaining positive publicity.”

Some stilted conversation followed between them, until Draco broke the polite bubble they had been in, and looked Hermione straight in the eye.

“Hermione – may I call you that? I would like to apologise. I know I have already done that, but that was right after everything happened, and it was more out of duty than anything else. Now, I just want you to know that I actually regret what I have done. I don’t expect you to forgive me, because I have also done things that can’t be accounted for by my upbringing. It is already more than generous of you to allow my mother in the board. She is most grateful for that.”

Hermione let out a breath and softly touched Draco’s arm.  
“I know you regret it. And your mother has really been helpful. I won’t forgive you just yet, but Harry has told me you have changed. I don’t hate you anymore, if that means anything to you.”

Draco smiled, inwardly wincing at the mention of Potter. “It does. You are too kind.”

Hermione waved it away with a slight smile. “Don’t mention it. Now, tell me how my children are doing at Hogwarts. Especially Hugo. Is he all right?”  
“Oh, yes, he is. He’s a bit quiet, very different from what I expected of him, but he is doing well. His potions are up to standards, even if he does mess up occasionally. He blew up his first cauldron, just last week, actually.”

“Did he? What potion were you brewing?” Hermione asked curiously.  
“That’s the fun part, we weren’t brewing. I was only showing how to adjust the fire beneath the cauldron, but he waved his wand a bit too enthusiastically.”  
“That sounds like him. And your children? I believe your youngest isn’t attending yet, is he?”

Draco shook his head, wondering why she would know things about his personal life.  
“No, he isn’t, he is only turning ten this year. So he’ll either attend next year or the year after that, depends on the letter. But he is already sitting in with many professors, and every evening he tells me all about what he has learned. He loves Herbology and Transfigurations.”  
“Not Potions?”  
“He likes that too, but Herbology and Transfigurations is more exciting, or so he says. He can’t wait until he’s allowed to participate in the lessons.”

“And Professor McGonagall doesn’t mind?”  
“No, I heard her saying how much she loves having an enthusiastic student in her classes. She is quite fond of Phi, I believe. Must be the Metamorphmagus thing.”

Hermione laughed.  
“Teddy Lupin is here as well, if you would like to meet him?” she offered. “I honestly need to talk to some other people.”  
“No, it’s fine. I don’t particularly want to bring up our family connections on an event like this. You go talk to others, I will be fine. Tonight is a great success,” Draco said as a parting word. Then he smiled and walked away, as if he had something to do.

Around midnight, Draco and Narcissa could finally go home. Narcissa was happily chattering about the success of the evening and all the new acquaintances she had made. She seemed very happy to be hosting parties again, even if she wasn’t the official host, and no one really came for her. Narcissa said, in a bout of honesty in between her exclamations, how much she had missed being responsible for the welcome feeling of guests.

“Really Draco, you haven’t attended many parties with me and your father as hosts, and you don’t know the feeling yourself, but it is so satisfactory to do. You should host your own party soon, I am sure you have the skills,” she smiled.  
“I’m sure of that as well, but I don’t know whether anyone would attend. You know that, Mother,” Draco answered.  
“Of course I know that. You could host a charity event, even if it starts small and easy. It would be good for your personal growth, for your children and also for the Malfoy name. Excuse me for saying that, but I still think that is important.”

Draco chuckled. “I know, Mother, I understand. I care about that too, I haven’t completely abandoned everything you’ve ever told me. Some things are still valuable to me.”

His mother turned around to face him fully, which caused Draco to stand still and wait for her.  
“Are they really?” she sounded vulnerable, masked by the proud look she always adopted when she didn’t want to show her vulnerability.

“Yes, Mother, they are. The family name is important, the family vault and possessions, the future of my children. Even the purity of blood isn’t completely useless to me. You haven’t ruined my upbringing, at all. And Father hasn’t either,” Draco reassured her softly, offering his arm again.

Narcissa searched his face for a little while longer, but seemed to be satisfied with Draco’s words. She accepted his arm and resumed her monologue about the evening. They passed the first Apparition point to have more time together.

“You should come by more often, Draco. I miss you,” Narcissa said sincerely, when Draco had Side-Alonged her to the Manor.  
“I will do my best, Mother. I will owl you to propose a date for Sunday lunch, if that’s all right.”  
“That is very well, darling. Oh, I almost forgot. Is Mr. Potter still so kind? You described him very animatedly in your latest letters, as if you were back at Hogwarts and keeping a strict eye on him, only now you delivered positive comments instead of insults.”

Draco supressed a frown. “Ah, well, he is much the same, really.”  
Narcissa saw him hesitate around the words, but let it go.

“You will have to tell me his favourite chocolate, so I can take him into account when I send you fresh bonbons. Do you know already?” she asked.  
“I know he likes pumpkin and treacle tart, but I wouldn’t know about his chocolate preferences. I guess dark chocolate or some exotic flavour. Gryffindors.”

His mother laughed brightly. “Slytherins are supposed to like bitter flavours, like dark chocolate, and here you are, addicted to milk and white. I don’t think Mr. Potter is the most stereotypical Gryffindor, so don’t assume things about him,” she berated him. “But you should ask him, and I promise to arrange the best flavours for him. Send my regards to Pansy and Blaise, will you? And if you need any help with Gregory, you may ask me as well. Good night, sweetheart.”

Draco bent over to kiss Narcissa on her cheek. “Sleep well, Mother. Bid Father good night for me.”

The door of the Manor closed behind Narcissa, and Draco turned on his heel to Apparate outside the gates of Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest lurked dark and dangerous behind the castle, nocturnal animals filling the air with sounds.

When Draco walked to his apartment, he passed the Slytherin common room, where a few sobs sounded and agitated whispers.

“Jackie, are you sure? It can’t be true, can it?” he heard someone ask. There was only a loud sob in response.

“But they were always hidden so well!” another voice exclaimed, this one distinctly Albus.

Draco spoke the password and walked into the common room. Everyone fell silent, Scorpius, Cassie and Phi were sitting in a corner, with just the three of them. When Draco moved to walk towards Jackie, a sweet girl with a difficult past, she only scowled at him and scuffled away.

Scorpius tugged his sleeve.  
“Papa, come,” he said, bringing Draco to a side corridor where they could speak.  
“Jackie’s parents are found,” he then announced.

Jackie’s parents had been Death Eaters. They had taken the Mark, but had never done anything more than that. Bellatrix had threatened them a few times, in hopes they would join the torturing and murdering, but it never worked.

In Draco’s interrogation, he had called out their names, but had also tried to say how they were as innocent as they could be with a Mark on their forearm. But he had still ratted them out.

They had been relatively safe, but ten years after their daughter was born, they had to run away from a new wave of Death Eater imprisonments. Jackie had lived the last year before Hogwarts with her grandmother, a half-blood Slytherin, and she was a second-year student now.

But apparently, her parents were found now. And Draco could guess what would happen to them, since they didn’t have enough money to pay fines.

“What can I do?” Draco offered his son.  
“Not much. She doesn’t even want to look at us. I don’t think she’ll want you to do anything,” his son answered honestly.

“Understandable. Please make sure she is all right. I will do my own thing. Get her to sleep. And put Phi to bed!”

Scorpius nodded with a small grin, and Draco kissed him good night. He then strode away, up to McGonagall’s office. She would know exactly what to do to help the girl.

A short talk with the Head Mistress assured Draco that indeed, Jackie would be in good hands. McGonagall would give her some days off to visit her grandmother, and she would also make sure that none of this would become public knowledge, until Jackie was ready to face it. Apparently, McGonagall had some influence over the contents of The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler.

Draco smiled at himself when he crawled into bed at 4 o’clock in the morning. He would always protect his Slytherins, even though those same Slytherins tried to stay away from him.

Now, how to make sure that Potter would stay away from him as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I've made an outline of this story, and I've got one conclusion: this story is far from finished.


	17. Slytherin House Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohoo another chapter for you guys! I don't even know what I'm doing anymore, because all I can think about is more scenes for this story, and I don't even know whether you like it. At least I still enjoy it, but shit, you probably think I'm going crazy over here.
> 
> Well, I sort of am. But I don't care.
> 
> Enjoy!

The story of Jackie’s parents was spread around like wildfire, but Cassie had proclaimed it as an official Slytherin House Secret, so no one told anyone who wasn’t supposed to know. Draco felt good about the institute of SHS, because it brought the Slytherins closer together and set a firm basis for trust.

Jackie still refused to talk to him or his children, but Draco could live with that, since he had been the person to rat out his parents. The only thing he could do, was try to make it up to her.

Draco was pondering this during lunch a few days after the SPEW meeting, since he wasn’t talking to Potter anymore. He was also keeping an eye on Aquila and Matias.

The reason for that was easily explained. The day before, Pansy had Floo-called while he was relaxing and letting time fly past with a calming white wine in his hand. She, knowing him better than most others, had suspiciously narrowed her eyes at the glass of wine.

“What are you being dramatic about?” she had said.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You are drinking white wine. You never drink white wine, only when you’re exaggerating a problem and wallowing in self-pity. So tell me what’s going,” Pansy had demanded.  
“I don’t think that’s the only time I drink white wine, sweetness.”

Pansy had rolled her eyes.  
“The last three times you were drinking white wine, you were thinking about divorcing Astoria after that first Christmas with the twin at Hogwarts, or about taking the job at Hogwarts, or when you thought Aquila had a boyfriend. Wait, does Aquila have a boyfriend?”

Draco had laughed at that. “No, I don’t think she does. Although I do have to watch that Matias-boy.”

The conversation had flowed to other subjects after that, but the idea was planted in Draco’s head and he couldn’t get it out. So, now he was regularly flicking his gaze to his oldest daughter and her best friend, filing every smile and touch away to examine later.

Potter was also trying to catch his attention, but Draco studiously ignored him. Ophiuchus was still a bit more subdued than he normally was, and he was also spending most of his time in Draco’s class, but right now, he was sitting with his siblings at the Slytherin table. He wasn’t cast aside by anyone, except for a few students who were already not very fond of the Malfoy family. They could live with it.

A late Slytherin student ran into the Great Hall and started whispering things to his Housemates. Whatever it was, it made all Slytherins wild with enthusiasm, and conspiratory chatter started up. It was just subtle enough for other Houses to think it wasn’t very important, but Draco saw how hyped up everyone became. His own children turned towards each other with wide eyes and even wider grins.

Albus caught Draco’s eye and smiled incredibly, indicating that something rather good was happening at that moment.

Draco didn’t find out what the buzz was until he met up with Theresa Zarnel, the fifth-year that would be his apprentice and helping hand in his experiment with Neville’s magically adapted plants.  
They were brewing a simple potion, since it was the first one they tried to make and Draco didn’t want to start something dangerously.

“If you cut the leaves, I will prepare the cauldron and the fire. The first few times, I will do the checking spell myself, until I am sure it works correctly and without troubles. After that, I can teach you. Sounds good?” Draco explained. Theresa nodded sharply, while also paying attention to cutting the leaves in the right size.

“If I understand correctly, you have made this potion before. It’s one of the basic Healing potions, to close and heal small scrapes and bruises. The only difference is that we won’t need any enhancing ingredients, like those nasty Bustles of the original potion. Therefore, I will let you take the lead on this potion, and I will step in whenever necessary. Just tell me what you are going to do before you do it, so I can stop you if it’s wrong.”

Theresa nodded again, smiling now. She quickly started explaining what she would do to make the potion, occasionally looking at the instruction paper Draco had written for himself. When the potion was calmly brewing and they didn’t have anything to do anymore, except for stir a couple of times, Theresa seemed to relax a bit and chattered about things different from brewing.

“Professor, did you hear about the new SHS?” she grinned, with a sparkle in her eyes. Draco cocked his head to side. Perhaps the new SHS was what Slytherin had been busy with during lunch.

“The last one I heard, was about Jackie’s parents,” he answered curiously. Theresa sat up straighter.  
“Oh, you’re going to love this. So, there is this new House Secret. Apparently…” she started in a whisper. “…there is a Slytherin who’s in love with a Gryffindor! That’s so much fun, right?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Who is this loved-up Slytherin, then?”  
“No one knows!” Theresa exclaimed.  
“That’s impossible, someone needs to proclaim it as an SHS, which means someone must know exactly who it is.”  
“No, but see, there was this note in the common room, saying: SHS number three of year 2019-2020. A Slytherin has fallen in love. With a Gryffindor. Updates will follow soon.” Theresa was on a roll with telling the story now. “And there was this first-year who had to grab a few books for his afternoon classes and he saw the note above the fireplace. He took it with him to show the others. Some of us have tried, and it really is an official SHS; no one can talk about it with people who aren’t supposed to know.”

Draco frowned. The magic around Slytherin House Secrets was really more complex than he thought it was. He would have to work it out, one day.

“That’s very nice for the concerning Slytherin. And there is also no suspicion of who it might be?”  
Theresa giggled. “Well, a few have opted your daughter Cassis, since she is so protective of everything Gryffindor. Or Albus Potter, but I doubt that. Other than those, we don’t know.”

Cassis? That was the nickname people had for Cassie? Oh well, it was fun, Draco supposed.  
“Hmm. Who could Cassie be in love with, then?” he wondered out loud.  
“No idea. There are quite many Gryffindors, also quite a few that she talks to. But I don’t think there is one person she particularly leans towards, so she’s either very good at hiding her emotions, or she’s not the Slytherin meant in the note.”

Draco relaxed against his seat again.  
“She’s definitely not good in hiding her emotions. It must be someone else, then. How about Atticus? He’s always sitting as close as possible to the Gryffindors in class, isn’t he?” he suggested.

Theresa looked at him with surprise written all over her face and doubled over in laughter. “Is the great Draco Malfoy actually indulging in gossip?” she managed to joke.

Draco tried to look indignant, but the smirk he was trying to suppress wasn’t helping.  
“I happen to think that gossip –or catching up with social events, as I like to call it– is very important in maintaining your reputation. Do you know how valuable the right information is when you try to make a good impression on someone?”

The girl just let out a few more snorts, and crossed her legs.  
“I suppose it could be Atticus, yes. But he dislikes Gryffindors more than anything, or so he says.”  
“Well, what someone says isn’t always what they actually mean, is it? Ever heard of the phrase, ‘me thinks the lady doth protest too much’? Atticus could just be head over heels with that Gryffindor of his.”

“Perhaps. Or what about Klara, the German girl? She might be in love with a Gryffindor, you know. She’s always so quiet that I wouldn’t put it past her to actually break all stereotypes and start a family with the most stubborn, thick-headed Gryffindor she can find.”

Draco laughed. “The most stubborn and thick-headed is a bit too old for her, I think. He’s more my age,” he complained, Theresa grinning at him.  
“That’s true. Professor Potter really is the stereotype Gryffindor, isn’t he?”  
“Definitely. Not the kind of company I’d enjoy.”

Theresa hid her confusion almost as soon as it hit her, but Draco saw that first unguarded second when it flitted over her face. He sighed inwardly. Of course it would take everyone a lot of time to get used to Draco and Potter not talking anymore. Draco would have to up his game, if he wanted people to know they weren’t interacting at all.

Luckily, Theresa didn’t utter a word about it, and changed to subject back to the House Secret.

“You know, Professor Malfoy, all students are quite curious to who the Slytherin and Gryffindor in question are. Everyone is dying to know how they met and how the Slytherin fell in love. And whether it’s mutual, of course. Aren’t you curious?” she asked kindly.  
“Very curious. I’m already their number one fan,” Draco promised. Theresa smiled.  
“Are you now? I always thought you weren’t fond of Gryffindors.”  
“I’m not. All the more fun to see how a Slytherin and Gryffindor fall in love and make it work, right? At least, I hope they make it work. It’d be a great thing to watch evolve and all that.”  
“That almost sounds like you’re a romantic person! I’m shocked,” Theresa laughed.

Draco raised an amused eyebrow.  
“I wouldn’t say I’m a romantic. I merely like a good dramatic soap, from time to time. Oh look, the potion is done. Let me just do the check-up.”

He stood up, signed for Theresa to stand a few metres away and grabbed his wand to cast the newly made up spell for the first time.

“Ostendarum Effectum!” he cast with a complex wand movement. Blue letters, graphs and tables appeared in the air and Draco scribbled everything down on the instruction paper, before he waved the results away. He grinned at Theresa, who looked at him with a sort of wonder on her face.

“That was so cool,” she breathed happily. “You made your own spell!”  
“I had a lot of help, but yes. There was no spell that could tell me the exact effect of a potion. I just hope the spell is correct, but we’ll find out once we apply the potion on some toads or rats, or something.”  
“So what do the results say?”

Draco looked down at what he just wrote down. “Well, the graph shows us when the potion wears off and when it’s at its strongest. The tables say a lot of things I’m not sure of, because it all sounds a little improbable, and the other letters are scientific shortenings of certain effects and possible dangers. You’ll learn the meaning of all those if you decide to actually do your Potions mastery. For now, it’s too complicated to explain.”

“But in short?’  
“In short, I think the spell works well enough for now. I’ll work out the kinks and try to find a solution for that in my spare time, coming few weeks. You better get going, it’s almost dinner time.”

Theresa grabbed her stuff and waved when she walked away. Draco stayed for a while longer, until he indeed went to the Great Hall to have dinner. He saw Aquila and Matias both bent over a thick book and pointing at certain paragraphs. Cassie was standing at the High Table, talking with Potter, but turned to the Slytherin table when she spotted Draco.

Draco was stopped from walking to his seat at the High Table by James, who was standing squarely in front of him.

“Hello James,” Draco greeted, a bit bewildered by the sudden ambush.  
“Could you help me with something?” James asked. He sounded somewhat helpless. Draco just nodded, which caused James to walk out of the Great Hall, presumably expecting Draco to follow.

“What’s going on, James?’ Draco worried. James sat down on a part of the stairs that didn’t move and sighed.  
“I think I like someone.”

Draco’s head buzzed. So much love and emotions today, it was getting crazy.  
“Oh?” he merely responded.  
“Yeah. I don’t know what to do now.”  
“Well, it could be a good idea to try and find out whether they like you, too.”

James rolled his eyes grumpily. “Obviously. But how do I know?”  
“That’s the hard part, I guess,” Draco said, while carefully sitting down next to the Potter kid. “It depends on the kind of person. Maybe they’re not wearing their heart on their sleeve, and then it’s difficult. Maybe their feelings are easily visible. You’ll just have to pay attention.”

“But how can I be sure I’m not reading more into it than it actually is?”  
Draco sighed. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to about this. I’ve been married, but it was largely arranged as a business deal. I’m not good with the emotional stuff, James.”

James looked at him with big puppy eyes. “You are good in reading people, though. And I thought, perhaps you could explain how people work, just so I know what kind of signs I can look for.”

“Well… fine,” Draco assented. “As I said, it largely depends on the person. Blushes and fidgeting are always a good sign, however, many don’t do that. Just try and see if they reach out to you, if they want to make you smile or catch your attention. Of course, that could also mean they want to be friends, but wanting to be friends can be enough to eventually become a couple. Follow your gut feeling, really. That’s all I can say.”

Looking down at his hands, James sighed heavily. “Yeah, I guess I could do that.” He sighed again. “Am I obvious?” he asked then.

“Obvious? In what? I didn’t think you liked someone, if that’s what you mean. So you can’t be embarrassingly obvious,” Draco replied honestly.  
“My dad says that I am, actually. He says he knows who it is.”  
“That’s too bad. Is it a fellow lion?” Draco asked.  
James smiled a small smile. “Yeah, she is. She’s very pretty.”  
“Good.” Not knowing what else to say, Draco stood up, intending to finally have dinner, but he is stopped by an occurring thought.

“It wouldn’t happen to be that tall girl with the glasses, now, would it?”  
Draco has seen James talk to her quite a few times, and every time James would smile just a bit brighter, if she was looking. They would make a handsome couple.

James turned a bright red and he scuffled his shoe over the steps.  
“Her name is Suzanne. She is so smart, she helps everyone with their homework! And she’s pretty, right? I really like talking to her, because she is very funny, but can also be serious when necessary,” he vented suddenly.

“And did you know, Suzanne means ‘lily’ in French, which means beauty, and majesty and sweetness in the flower language. It’s accurate, don’t you think? Tiger lilies mean wealth and pride, and that fits her very well.”

“You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?” Draco chuckled. James just grinned sheepishly and shrugged.  
“You can’t blame me,” he mumbled.

Draco just laughed again and shook his head fondly.  
“No, I guess I can’t. But may I ask why you know what her name means?”  
“Her mother lived in Morocco for a long time, so she learned French there. Or did you mean the flower language?” James frowned a bit. “My dad once told me what the lily flower meant. Is there really an entire language around flowers?”  
“Frankly, yes, there is.”

They were silent for a second, until Draco spoke up again.  
“If you’d like, I could teach you the flower language. It’s fun, and you can actually make very sweet bouquets with a heavy meaning that not everyone can interpret. It can be very useful.”  
“You know flower language?”  
“I know many a thing, James, get used to it. And it’s called floriography. But yes, I know floriography. For example, your mother’s name is Ginevra? That comes from the ginger flower, which means strength and fiery passion.”

James laughed. “Well, that sums her up. Does every flower really have a different meaning? That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, it is. Do you want to learn?”

When James nodded eagerly, Draco smiled and held out his hand to help James up from his sitting position. They kept chatting amiably together, because James obviously needed someone to talk to that wasn’t his father, and Draco couldn’t help but like the easy conversation.

Why did all Potters have to be so annoyingly friendly, all the bloody time?

At the same time, Cassie had returned to the High Table to continue her talk with Potter. He had been surprised when she walked up to him, because they hadn’t really spoken outside the classroom, and it was always Potter who had initiated it. But now, Cassie was standing in front of him, and had asked him how he was enjoying his job as teacher instead of being an Auror. Now, however, their conversation had taken another turn.

“Stubborn people are so incredibly annoying!” Cassie exclaimed tiredly. “I mean, I get why you would want to go your own way, but at least admit it when you’re wrong. Right?”

Potter laughed. “I don’t know, Cass, perhaps being stubborn is part of their pride. Admitting you’re wrong can be difficult.”  
“So? Life is difficult, deal with it.”  
“That’s easy for you to say. But you do realise that you are incredibly stubborn as well, don’t you?”

Cassie made an indignant sound. “I am not, thank you. My papa, he is stubborn. And Scorpius is, too, just like Aquila and Phi-phi. But not me.” She gave Potter a mischievous grin, knowing full well that she was the most stubborn of her siblings.

“Okay, yes, I am stubborn. But papa still wins. Once he’s decided what he is going to do, he won’t look at any other option, even if other options are better and easier. He’s just a bit stupid.”  
“Shouldn’t you be a bit kinder about your papa? You never know, he could be standing behind you when you say such things,” Potter teased, making Cassie laugh confidently.

“Please. If papa walks in, I’d know, because whatever room he enters, gets this entirely different atmosphere. Usually because people gossip about him, or because he’s well-dressed,” she pondered.

“Anyway, papa is the most stubborn person I know. He sticks to his own plan, even if it is disastrous.”  
“Why would he do that?” Potter frowned.  
“Because he is dramatic, hadn’t you noticed? He thinks there is only one option, which is usually the worst plan anyone can ever come up with. Everyone who tells him there are other options, doesn’t understand the complexity of the situation, according to papa. He is so self-destructing, it would be fun to watch, if it wasn’t my papa.”

Potter smiled faintly, but the frown didn’t leave his expression. “How is he holding up, after the incident with Phi?”

A spark in Cassie’s eyes indicated that this was exactly what she had been trying to steer the conversation towards, but it was gone too quickly for Potter to completely examine.

“He says he’s fine, but that’s only because he thinks we don’t see he is self-destructing again. He’s trying to keep his distance from everyone that isn’t directly related to him.”  
“Why?”  
“I’ll say it one more time: because is dramatic. Whatever his reasoning, he will be the only that can actually understand.”

Potter seemed to mull these words over in his head. When he looked up, Cassie was smiling at him expectantly.

“Say, Cassie. Is there anything we can do to make sure his distancing doesn’t fire back at him?”

Her smile brightened. “Of course! It’s easy; you just have to make sure he can’t completely lock you out. Keep reaching out for him. If he feels you really are friends, he won’t be able to ignore you all the time. He’s too soft to ignore his friends.”  
“But am I friends with him?”

Cassie’s smile turned into a wicked smirk.  
“You’ll have to find out,” she said, before she walked to the Slytherin table, right when Draco walked in, with James in tow.

Potter would have a lot to think about. So Draco was trying to keep his distance from Potter, that much was obvious now. However, if Cassie’s hints were correct, Draco felt Potter was his friend. Draco doesn’t particularly want to exclude Potter. He just thinks it’s better for everyone.

“Hey Malfoy,” Potter said as soon as Draco sat down in the chair next to him. Draco ignored him in favour of taking a careful bite of his dinner.

“Malfoy, don’t ignore me. I need your help,” Potter tried then. Draco still didn’t respond. He sent a smile in the direction of the Slytherin table, where all students were excitedly talking with each other, like they had been doing ever since lunch. Honestly, Potter hadn’t been able to get the Slytherins to work, because they had been too busy with something else.

“Malfoy, listen to me,” he demanded. Draco stilled for a moment, but turned to face Potter.  
“Thank you. Tomorrow, I’m going to teach the third years the Riddikulus spell. I need an extra pair of hands, in case a Boggart goes wrong and I’m helping another student.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you ask another professor?”  
“Do you really see Sprout or Flitwick helping me with Defense classes?”  
“Why not?” Draco challenged.  
“It would be weird to have an older professor assisting me. It has to be someone of my own age.”  
“Ask Neville.”  
“Neville was rubbish at Defense, especially his Riddikulus. He told me to ask you.”

Draco sighed. Of course Neville told Potter to ask him. Bloody Hufflepuff couldn’t just suggest someone else.

“Lure a student by promising extra credits,” he suggested then.  
“Can’t. We’re not allowed to let students help us in classes, because that would give them too much responsibility over other student’s wellbeing.”  
“It’s not my problem, Potter,” Draco snapped. “I am not going to help you with you pathetic lessons.”  
Potter seemed to stay quiet after that, but it didn’t last long.

“Are you afraid you won’t be able to cast the Riddikulus spell?” he asked softly.

Draco turned to face him fully. Potter was glad to see fury in his eyes, because apparently, he was still able to rile Draco up.

“I’ll help you, but only because you are clearly not going to leave me alone if I refuse. You owe me after tomorrow, Potter. Don’t forget that.”

After saying this, Draco rapidly stood up and followed the entire Slytherin House to their common room, which caused many confused looks from the other houses.

Of course, it had been orchestrated, that all of them left at the same time. The truth was, everyone had been completely on edge ever since the first year told them about the note. Therefore, a deal had been made, that when everyone was done eating, they would go to the common room and have a nice Slytherin evening. With the ultimate goal, of course, finding out who the Slytherin was that had fallen in love with a Gryffindor.

All students were sitting in the common room when Draco arrived, and the offending note was still hanging above the fireplace.

“So, tell me what is going on,” Draco demanded, the moment he stepped through the portrait. He nodded to Jackie in greeting. She didn’t turn away, but didn’t react to his greeting either. Neutrality was good for now.

Other students all milled around to get the latest news, and Draco was quickly updated on everything that was known for now. Just when everyone was seated and gossiping with friends, a second piece of parchment appeared on the fireplace, which caused a new ruckus.

“Let me see, I am your Head of House!” Draco smirked. He walked to the notes and observed them carefully. It was an impressive piece of magic, having a note appear without anyone seeing who was doing it. The Sticking Charm was also very well done.

Draco read the note and turned to face his students, who were all eyeing him curiously.  
“First of all, I don’t know who is doing this, but that person is magically very capable. Congratulations on that.” Some students groaned in protest that he didn’t tell them what the note said, but Draco shushed them quickly.

“The second note isn’t very interesting. It says: ‘updates will come every few days. For now: there are rumours that Gryffindor likes Slytherin, too, but none of them dares take the first step.’ So, let’s make a deal, with every Slytherin, right now,” Draco suggested. “Let’s agree that the moment a new note appears, everyone in the House will be updated, including me.”

Of course, this was accepted enthusiastically, but then a few Slytherins from the back called out.  
“Evidently, whoever is writing these notes doesn’t want anyone to know that it’s them. Can we agree that no one will actively try to find out? You know, to give that Slytherin a safe feeling and he or she will continue updating us?”

“What, Barbra, are you the mysterious snake, then?” another voice called, of which loud laughter was the result.  
“Obviously, hadn’t you noticed yet? I’m cheating on my boyfriend with a Gryffindor. I thought that was common knowledge,” Barbra responded sarcastically.

“And here I was thinking that I was the one for you. Gryffindors always have to ruin everything, don’t they?” Barbra’s boyfriend teased.

Cassie immediately cut in. “That’s not fair, you can’t just judge someone by their House alone.”  
“Oh, so little Miss Malfoy has her eye on a Red-Goldie then?” someone else interjected.

Scorpius nudged Cassie and laughed at her indignant scowl. A few more teasing comments ensued, but in the end, everyone agreed to not use all their Slytherin powers to find whoever was posting the notes.

No matter what everyone in the Wizarding World thought of Slytherins; they stuck together and protected each other when necessary. They’re family. Draco was proud of his snake nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, please leave a comment if you liked it, because it makes my day.
> 
> Also, don't be afraid to tell me what you didn't like, because I can only learn from it.
> 
> Andddd... guess who's got Tumblr (:-). If you want ficrecs and small pieces of my own writing, mostly about Drarry, but also some half-poetic shit, please follow me! Name's i-am-and-proud :D  
> www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com


	18. Painful meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I didn't forget you guys. I just had too much on my mind. My sincerest apologies. As a consolation, here's a chapter full of angst.

“Good morning everyone! Settle down, please,” Potter told his class, third-year Slytherins and Gryffindors.

 

Scorpius and Albus looked around. Chairs and desks were removed from the classroom, so the two of them shrugged and went to stand in the front of the group students.

 

“Today, we will be learning the Riddikulus spell. Who can tell me anything about it?” Potter asked then. Albus’s hand shot in the air, and with a small grin, gave him the go ahead to answer.

 

“It’s to counter Boggarts. You just say the incantation, and the Boggart will turn into something funny,” Albus told the class. Scorpius frowned.

“That’s not really how it works, though, is it?” he corrected. At the encouraging nod of Potter, he elaborated.

 

Scorpius smiled and explained everything he knew about the spell.

“One has to imagine something funny, something one can laugh about. Only then can one successfully counter your Boggart. Boggarts represent your worst fear, and one can make the Boggart loose its form, but only through the Riddikulus incantation and a firm picture of something laughable in one’s head. For example, if one’s worst fear is, say, a wasp, then one has to imagine something else. I don’t know, a wasp with a cold that keeps conjuring a handkerchief from his breast pocket to blow his nose. Only with such a picture in mind, can one counter the Boggart.” He trailed of at the end, when he saw his papa standing in the door opening and watching with an amused expression.

 

Since the door was behind the teacher’s desk, Potter didn’t notice Draco standing there and continued his lesson.

 

“Very good, Scorpius. Now, when I was taught this spell, there was only one professor in the room and not everyone was able to perform it, because we ran out of time, but…”

“Your worst fear is a Dementor, right?” a girl asked.

Potter hesitated for a second, debating whether he should answer the question. “Yes, it was,” he ended up saying.

 

“As I was saying, I am planning on making sure that everyone can perform the spell. There is someone who was supposed to be here, but I fear he’s running late.”

“Don’t you worry, Professor Potter. I’m right here,” Draco decided to make his presence known. Potter turned around to see him there and smiled crookedly.

 

“Good. So, you will be divided in two groups, one of which will be supervised by me, and the other by Malfoy. No, hold on, you are not divided in Slytherin-Gryffindor. It will be mixed. I’ll give you a number, and everyone with number one can go to Malfoy, and number two goes with me.”

 

Potter started counting heads, indeed making mixed groups of Slytherins and Gryffindors. He assigned Scorpius to group one, and ignored Albus for a moment, until he too, was sent to Draco’s group with a wink.

 

Scorpius and Albus high-fived.

“Benefits of being the teacher’s son,” Albus snickered to his friend.

 

When everyone was assigned to a group, Potter continued his talk. “You will be working in pairs, so make pairs. Every pair gets a Boggart. One of you will release it while the other will perform the Riddikulus spell. It’s easiest if you already know what your worst fear is, so you know what to expect. However, it’s no problem if you don’t know. I had no idea what form my Boggart would take.”

 

“You just said that your Boggart _used to be_ a Dementor. What is it now?” the same girl as before piped up. Potter sighed softly.

“I don’t know. Don’t interrupt me again, please. If you are, for some reason, incapable of getting rid of your Boggart, your partner may be able to help. But,” here Potter paused to make sure he had everyone’s full attention. “There are two competent professors in this room. If none of you can counter it, you call for help. Immediately. Malfoy and I will be keeping an eye out as well. If we see anything going wrong, we will step in. We will make sure that no one in this room is endangered. One rule: no one is to be made fun of because of their Boggart! Okay? Start.”

 

Potter walked to his side of the –may I say- massive classroom and grabbed his wand to open all closets that contained Boggarts. Draco retrieved his wand as well. He was rather curious how this was going to work out; so many Boggarts in one classroom couldn’t go well, could it?

 

When the Boggarts were released, it was chaos for a few seconds, until students started to get a hang of casting the Riddikulus spell. A few were definitely having fun with conjuring the most hilarious scenes, which made Draco chuckle a few times. He cast a look at Albus and Scorpius and saw them having a bit more trouble.

 

Not that that was such a surprise; they both had more to do with the war than most other children. No doubt Albus had witnessed some of Potter’s nightmare-induced fevers, or perhaps even heard him speak about them. Albus and Scorpius both had a lot to lose, a lot of weak spots. Of course they had difficult Boggarts.

 

Scorpius was the first of them that tried to counter the Boggart, but his worst fear was a painful thing to behold. Draco had known this already, but it felt like a punch in the gut to actually see his son battling his own fear so blatantly.

 

The Boggart had taken the form of Ophiuchus, lying on the ground, with blood all around his head. The plastic toy broomstick he had been playing with, was lying next to him, broken. Phi, in all his innocence, thought that every broomstick could fly. He had grabbed his own –the plastic one- and climbed on top of the shed in the back garden. As can be expected, the landing hadn’t been as smooth as it would have been with a flying broom. He had only been around five or six years old when this had happened. Scorpius had found him, half-dead and barely breathing. Not knowing what to do, Scorpius had just sat with his little brother for a long time, until one of the house elves finally noticed them and called Draco.

 

And now, Scorpius was confronted with that same horrible image of Phi. After a while of staring at it, he was able to pull himself together and straighten his back. He pointed his wand at the Boggart and closed his eyes before he cast the spell.

 

It worked the first time around; Scorpius had conjured an image of Phi, telling one of his awful jokes with so much gusto, it was difficult not to laugh at it. Albus and Scorpius grinned at each other, and Albus took Scorpius’s spot in front of the Boggart.

 

Draco immediately saw the change, and his gut feeling told him he had to be prepared. His wand was in his hand before he could even think about it.

Good thing that it was, because Albus’s Boggart attacked as soon as it had taken its form. Draco recognised the green flash of the Killing Curse, which headed straight for Albus. Vaguely, Draco noticed a sharp cry somewhere in the classroom, but ignored it, in favour of jumping between Albus and the Boggart.

 

He didn’t know the exact working of Boggarts, so he wasn’t sure whether the Killing Curse would actually have worked, but Draco was more than ready to see his own worst fear, if that meant saving Albus.

 

He hadn’t been ready for what he saw now, though. Apparently, his Boggart were his children.

 

All four of them were lined up, smiling brightly and waving at him. Scorpius made a confused sound, small, mocking laughter sounded from the rest of the students. One of them even dared speak up.

 

“I guess his children must be very scary then,” a boy mocked.

 

Draco just stared at the Boggart. This couldn’t be it, there had to be more to it. So he waited patiently, watching his worst fear in front of him, not casting the Riddikulus spell before he knew exactly what his Boggart would be.

 

After a few short moments, a big, grey snake slid was conjured, and it slid around his children’s feet, until a hissed command was heard and the snake stayed put. Behind Scorpius, a far too familiar man appeared, grinning his disgusting grin, and placing his sharp fingers on Cassie’s shoulders.

 

“Very good, Draco. I am proud of you. Can you come to hold their arms, while I place the Mark?” the man said. “They will obey to –“

 

Before he could finish his sentence, Draco swished his wand aggressively and yelled the incantation with a scowl on his face. He let out a shuddering breath and kept the defensive position he had taken, until he heard Potter laugh from the other side of the classroom. Other students joined him.

 

Draco’s Boggart had changed from his worst fear into something that made him laugh, like the spell was supposed to do. Now, it was Potter, stumbling his way forward while being attacked by snow balls.

 

“I should have known you would use me,” Potter remarked lightly, even though the worried frown had stayed on his face. Draco grinned smugly at the group of students.

“Well, you are an infinite source of amusement.”

“I’m glad I make you happy,” Potter quirked.

“Oh no, you misunderstand. Your failures make me happy, not you. Details matter, Professor Potter.”

 

Potter just rolled his eyes and walked away to resume his lesson.

 

Draco very pointedly avoided his son’s gaze.

 

Rose Granger-Weasley shuffled to her cousin’s side.

“Hey Albie,” she whispered when the lesson was being continued. “Is it just me, or is there something going on between Uncs Harry and Professor Malfoy?”

 

Scorpius and Albus grinned at each other.

“Oh yes, there most certainly is. I’m glad you’ve noticed as well,” Albus responded then. Rose only smiled.

“So what are they doing about it?”

“Not much, unfortunately,” Albus rolled his eyes. “We are trying to set them up, with Scorpius’s siblings and James and Lily’s help. We’re not sure how to go about it, though.

“Well, I can help, perhaps? I mean, I don’t know whether Professor Malfoy liked Harry as well, but…”

 

Scorpius laughed. “He likes him. He likes him very much, don’t you worry.”

“How do you know? He’s so difficult to read,” Rose complained.

“No, he isn’t. You just have to know what to look for.”

“So what happened? Just a few days ago, they were super close and laughing and living in their own bubble, and now Professor Malfoy is turning on the cold showers.”

 

Albus sighed. “Please call him Mr. Malfoy, it’s weird to call him Professor.”

“Anyways,” Scorpius interrupted him with an eye roll. “Papa’s stupidity happened. Long story. But it only proves that he likes Harry. By the way, can you convince the other Weasleys to join in our match-making? Then we would be with fifteen, it should be enough, right?”

 

Rose’s eyes got a mischievous glimmer. “Of course I can convince them. We really are going to get them together?”

“Obviously.”

“One problem though,” Albus joined in. “Only four of us know Mr. Malfoy well enough, while he will be the most difficult to get through.”

 

They were silent for a few moments, until Scorpius shot up with a big grin.

“We can ask Neville! He totally wants them together, and papa trusts him. And he knows Harry well. Also, Pansy and Blaise will probably want to help.”

“Possibly. But wouldn’t that create tensions, with the war and stuff?” Rose frowned. Scorpius shook his head.

“No, they’re on good terms lately. And I bet Pansy knows exactly what papa thinks of Harry. She’s very observant.”

“Good,” Albus decided. “We will have to arrange a meeting with all of us, to make sure we’re on the same page. We can determine what we can do to set them up, then. If you convince the other Weasleys as soon as possible, James, Lily and I can help if you want.”

 

And so, it was decided. Although there would have to be a lot to be salvaged, since Draco and Potter were very stubborn human beings.

 

A few weeks went by. Draco and Potter barely talked, only when it was strictly necessary or when Potter decided to be an annoying git at breakfast and tried to lure Draco into a conversation. Potter still visited Draco when he had had a nightmare, and Draco still poured him a glass of Firewhiskey –on the rocks- and held him tight. But that was how far there interaction went. The cold between them intensified slowly, so that even the determined-to-be-friends Potter was affected by it and snapped sometimes. Insults slipped through from time to time and sneers and scowls were much more common than before.

 

During one of his classes, Draco noticed how few students had arrived. He waited a few more minutes to see if any others would stumble in, but it stayed empty. Only ten of his students were present, excluding Phi, because he had asked to go to Madame Hooch’s class to watch the flying lessons.

 

“Roxane,” Draco said softly, while walking up to the desk of sixth-year daughter of George Weasley. “Where is the rest of my class?”

 

The redhead looked at her hands, folded together on her desk.

 

“We have permission to skip it this lesson and the next.”

 

Draco frowned. “Who gave you that permission? I would have remembered if I would have said such a thing.”

“Another professor,” Roxane mumbled.

“Roxane. Tell me.”

 

The girl sighed. “We have a major assignment due next week for Defense. Har– Professor Potter gave us permission to skip two Potions lessons so we had more time to finish the assignment. He had it arranged with Head Mistress McGonagall.”

 

“He did what?” Draco growled. He walked back to his own desk, at the front of the classroom and started clearing up the papers and all other things. “You are all free to go. I am not going to teach ten students when there are supposed to be at least fifty. I have more respect for myself than that. Please tell your fellow students that if they are not present next lesson, consequences will follow. Potions is not a course to be taken lightly. Disperse.”

 

All students scrambled to enjoy a free hour, but Draco burst past them and marched towards the Defense classroom.

 

When he threw the door open, he was glad to notice all students were seated at their desks, and not flinging spells around.

 

“Potter!” Draco bellowed, rather uncharmingly. Potter raised an eyebrow at him, breaking off his conversation with a student, seemingly from Hufflepuff. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I could ask the same to you, barging into the classroom and interrupting me,” Potter responded dryly.

 

Draco noticed Scorpius and Albus share a weighted look, but ignored them.

 

“Perhaps you didn’t realise you were interrupting _my_ classes by permitting students to _not attend_ ,” Draco scowled.

“They had a big assignment and barely any time. Head Mistress McGonagall gave me the go ahead.”

“I don’t care whether she gave you a candy cane. You went behind my back. You cannot give students permission to skip lessons that are not yours.”

“As I said, they needed to finish their assignment for my class.”

 

Draco spared some time to wonder how civil they were still being, even though their expressions were not entirely kind.

“Then perhaps you should give them less assignment, if they can’t finish it in due time.”

“They can, if they would skip two Potions lessons. Two, Malfoy; surely, you can miss them.”

“I can’t. I have a program to follow.”

“So now you’re saying that Potions is more important than Defense?”

“No, I’m saying that for both, one needs to attend all classes. They are equally important for a student’s education.”

“You can’t win a war with potion-brewing,” Potter sneered.

Draco sighed unnoticeably.

“Whatever, Potter. Just don’t do it again. They’re my students, so _I_ decide when they are allowed to miss a class,” he said while moving to the door, in order to leave again. He felt a sense of familiar magic course through his body, one he had also felt when he came in.

 

“And Ophiuchus,” he said calmly, not bothering to turn around. “I don’t mind you being here. I would just appreciate you being honest about your whereabouts. So next time, tell me where you’re going and don’t lie, please.”

 

The magic tingled again, and Draco knew Phi had changed his appearance, from the Hufflepuff boy he had pretended to be, to his normal, jet-black character. Before he could apologise, Potter cut in.

 

“Merlin help us. Did I just hear Draco Lucius Malfoy say please?” he mocked.

 

Draco straightened his back and turned around slowly, seeing a wide-eyed look on Phi’s face and Scorpius clenching his fists tightly.

 

“Yes, Potter. Didn’t your parents ever teach you some manners?” Draco replied as calmly as he could.

“No, they didn’t, because, frankly? They did. When fighting Voldemort.” A few students gasped, while Scorpius flinched, almost imperceptibly.

 

Draco pasted an ugly sneer on his face. “Surely you had other father figures. Perhaps some godfather?” he taunted.

“Didn’t you hear? They died as well. When fighting Voldemort.”

 

Albus had his shoulders hunched up and looked at his desk.

 

“Pity. I suppose they weren’t wise enough to know how to stay alive.”

“At least they were brave! We can’t really say that about _your_ father, can we? Or about you, for that matter?” Potter stood up and placed his hands on his desk, his right hand threateningly close to his wand.

 

“You don’t know half of it.” Draco turned away to close the door behind him, but was stopped by Potter’s voice.

 

“Is your wit failing you? What a nice surprise, Malfoy. I would never have thought to see the day,” Potter jeered.

“No, Potter. I am merely trying to be the more mature one.”

 

With a swish of his robes –that was entirely natural and not enhanced by a spell Severus had taught him- he left the room. He decided not to close the door, to subtly piss of Potter. That felt good.

 

Except for the burning feeling in his stomach and the sour taste in his mouth.

 

The classroom was left in a state of total silence, for a few seconds. After that, everyone burst out in anger. Potter sat down at his desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in his fury. How dare that ferret talk to him like that? It hadn’t been his fault that some students needed more time on their essay!

 

Ophiuchus was wringing his hands together and biting his lip. He couldn’t disturb Potter now, because he was in his own little world, and his brother needed to sort things out with Albus before Phi could come barging in to talk. He slinked back to the wall and remained there until he felt it was safe to come out again.

 

Scorpius and Albus sat next to each other, tense, silent and entirely unsure of what to do. When they spoke, it was at the same time, and rushed, as if they thought it would be the last thing they ever said to each other.

 

“I’m sorry –“

“That was awful, Albus, I –“

 

They fell silent, but gave each other a tentative smile.

 

“I’m sorry for papa. It was very bad. Are you okay, Albie?” Scorpius asked.

Albus nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. But it was my dad’s fault. He knows that he shouldn’t call your papa by his middle name.”

“Still, papa shouldn’t have reacted this way. He said some horrible things.”

“So did dad. It’s at least both their faults.”

“But –“  
“No, Scorpius. Nothing else.”

 

There were a couple of moments where they just looked at the other.

 

“At least now we know that the stories of their rivalry weren’t exaggerated,” Scorpius joked softly. Albus smiled at him.  “They really can come up with hurtful things, can’t they?”

“Well, they have known each other very well ever since they were eleven. It’s not as if they have weaknesses the other knows nothing of.”

“No. Hey, Albie. We’re still friends, right?”

 

Albus grinned widely. “Absolutely. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Cool. Because I really don’t want to lose you.”

“Even if my dad kills your papa?” Albus questioned.

 

Scorpius scoffed. “First of all, he will never do that. Secondly, yes. Even then. We’ll get through it. Never judge a man by his parents, right?”

 

Albus smiled. It was a promise they had made at their first day at Hogwarts. Scorpius wouldn’t worship Albus, and Albus wouldn’t resent Scorpius. At least not because of what their respective fathers had done.

 

“Never judge a man by his parents. I’m glad we’re friends, Scar-arm,” Albus replied, with the nickname he had come up with after Scorpius was given the Dark Mark by Terence and Priscus. You know, just to show how good friends they are.

 

“We do need a lot of help now to get them together. We should arrange our first meeting,” Scorpius mused, meaning the Weasley, Potter and Malfoy children and Neville, Pansy and Blaise. They would have to make a solid plan of approach for this task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think and follow me on Tumblr: i-am-and-proud


	19. Meddling children and Amortentia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoohoo more angstiness. A chapter filled with meddling children, some more meddling children, a third scene containing meddling children, a splash of Amortentia, and a mysterious hoodie.
> 
> There is some French in this chapter, so in case you can't guess what it says, the translation is down below.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy,” Scorpius started with the most serious voice he could muster. Cassie started to giggle. “Alright, I’m glad all of you could make it. Thanks, Neville, for allowing us to meet in the greenhouses. Pansy, Blaise, I know you will have to lie to papa now, but you’ll survive. As you know, we are here to get papa and Harry together.”

 

Some Weasley children wore a frown on their faces and whispered together. Scorpius already knew what they were wondering.

 

“Some of you might think that papa does not like Harry. Trust me, he does. We know what to look at, which signs, and they have been very… present. We even have a spoken confession, which two persons at this table have witnessed.”

“Two?!” Neville screeched, looking around the table they were sitting at. When his gaze fell on Cassie, his frown lifted and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You and I will be having a talk soon, missy,” he threatened half-heartedly.

 

Scorpius pointedly scraped his throat. “So none of us will have to worry about that. They like each other, and they have both accepted it. We just need to get them to admit it to each other.”

 

Molly Weasley, daughter of Percy, raised her hand. Scorpius nodded at her in encouragement.

“I was just wondering, your father –“

“Papa,” Albus interrupted absently. “They call him ‘papa’. French.”

 

Scorpius rolled his eyes at him but smiled at the same time. Dominique and Louis, the children of Bill and Fleur, exchanged a look.

 

“French? Parles-tu Français ?” Dominique enquired.

“Oui,” Scorpius answered easily.

“Pourquoi ?”

“C’est la langue de nos ancêtres. Et c’est très élégant, non ?”

“Vous parlez couramment le Français ?”

“Oui, nous sommes élevés des les deux langues. Anyway, Molly, what was your question?”

 

Molly seemed slightly miffed at being interrupted, but after a short glare, she continued her question.

“I was wondering why your papa would have been so cold lately, if, as you say, he likes Harry?”

 

Scorpius went to answer, before he was beat to it by Aquila.

“Good question. If I may answer, papa has turned so cold because he rather likes Harry. It terrifies him, the consequences terrify him.”

“What consequences?” one of the Weasleys asked.

“You know… Who he is, who Harry is, what they did when they were younger. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

 

“He didn’t seem scared at the beginning of this year, when they lost track of time while talking to each other,” Lucy piped up.

Pansy held up her hand. “Wait, Draco lost track of time?” she laughed loudly. Blaise grinned with wide eyes. “Man, I would’ve liked to see that.”

 

Cassie smiled. “Yeah, they were talking and forgot all about classes. McGonagall had to remind them of it. Papa was mortified.”

“I can imagine. He never loses track of time. Poor sod, he really is far gone,” Blaise said amazedly.

 

“Yes, indeed,” Scorpius said to take control of the conversation again. “It’s true, a few months back, papa wasn’t all that bothered by the consequences. Since then, however, an incident here and there made him realise what kind of major wall stood between them.”

 

In the silence that followed, everyone was doing their best to not look at Phi, who had hunched together and bit his lip.

 

“This wall, however, is complete and utter bullsh- nonsense. Papa just needs to see that the wall doesn’t exist, and Harry needs to know how papa works. At the moment, we’ve got eleven who know Harry very well -,” Scorpius said with a wave towards the Weasleys, Potters and Neville. “- and six who know papa very well and two who know him well enough, namely Albus and Neville. And we have one who can easily spy on him, without papa realising why he’s being spied on.”

 

The last sentence was delivered with a pointed look at James.

 

“M-me?” James stuttered, surprised. “Why?” he managed at Scorpius’s affirming nod.

“Because of your floriography lessons,” Scorpius said easily.

“What – how do you know about that?”

“Did you know papa kept a diary? Coincidentally, Phi may have read a few pages.”

 

Pansy gasped. “Phi! You can’t do that!”

“Apparently I can,” Phi shrugged, sliding closer to Scorpius, who threw an arm around him.

“But you shouldn’t!”

“No, he shouldn’t. And Ophiuchus knows that this is the only time he will ever read papa’s diary,” Scorpius calmly explained.

“And whenever you need me to do it for this project, of course,” Phi quipped. Scorpius nodded gravely. “And whenever we need it.”

 

When Pansy made to protest again, Blaise clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder and laughed loudly. “Come on, Pans, as if you never read his diary!”

“That was with good reason, and –“

“It wasn’t. You were just curious.”

 

Pansy scowled at him, anger blazing in her eyes. “Shut it, Blaise, or I’ll tell these lovely innocent children everything I read in your diary. Draco won’t like that.”

While Blaise laughed, many disgusted sounds were heard around the table.

 

“Too much information!” Hugo cried out.

“Merlin, there are children present!” Roxane said with a disgusted up-turn of her nose.

“Godchildren, even!” Cassie screeched, covering her ears dramatically.

 

Scorpius just remained calm and smacked his hand on the table a few times to get the attention back.

 

“Attention, please! Thank you. As I said, James will be able to spy on him and his reactions, but he won’t have much to tell us if we don’t have a plan. So, ladies and gentlemen, please, let’s think of a few ideas. What is necessary to get them together? Which things does Harry need to know about papa, and the other way around? What are the secret ways to their hearts? How do we remove this huge, bloody wall?!”

 

Scorpius looked around with an expectant look on his face. “Say whatever you think is important. Aquila is our secretary. Shoot,” he ordered while sitting down. It stayed silent for a while, until slowly the ideas came trickling in. A grin spread over Scorpius’s face as he listened to all the ideas and caught Albus’s gaze. This was going very well.

 

The following Friday, Ophiuchus excused himself from his papa’s lesson to visit the Defense classroom. Arriving there, he smiled at some of the Weasleys that were attending that particular lesson and approached the teacher’s desk. All students were working on an essay, which meant that Potter didn’t have much to do, except making sure that everyone kept working.

 

It must have been a coincidence, that Potter wasn’t very busy that lesson, so that Phi could talk to him without being shooed away. Completely coincidental. Entirely unforeseen. Totally unexpected. Perfectly unanticipated.

 

So, Phi smiled at Potter and settled on a chair next to Potter’s. Before he could say anything, Potter opened his mouth to ask Phi, “Is your papa still angry at me?”

 

Phi quickly schooled his surprise. “No. No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? It wasn’t exactly professional of me to let students skip his classes.”

“No, it wasn’t. But papa was only angry for about ten minutes, so you needn’t worry.”

 

Potter snorted. “Only ten minutes? It sure seemed a lot longer than that,” he argued. Phi quickly shook his head.

“No, no, it really was only ten minutes. Papa’s good in masking his facial expressions, but there are a few ticks and mannerisms he has. If you know those, you’ll see his real emotions.”

 

That caught Potter’s interest. He glanced at his students to see them all working –the Weasleys seemed to be working very hard today- and turned to face Ophiuchus fully.

 

“How do you see whether he’s angry, then?” he asked quietly. Phi barely suppressed his grin.

“Well,” he started conversationally. “When he’s angry, he places his left hand over his right, see, like this. And then his right hand is turned upwards, so he can press his fingernails in his left palm, to distract himself from his anger.”

 

Potter watched Phi do it with wide eyes.

 

“You shouldn’t confuse it with papa feeling unsettled, or not knowing what to do. When he doesn’t know how to respond, he folds his left hand over his right, and clenches his right hand together in a fist. His left hand conceals the fist, you see?” Phi continued explaining.

 

“Also, when he’s nervous, he weaves his fingers together and leans them on his lap, or the table or something, so the fidgeting of his thumbs isn’t noticeable.”

 

Potter nodded, repeating what Ophiuchus told him in a soft murmur. “So he only hides his negative emotions?”

“No, absolutely not. He hides many emotions, especially when he thinks he shouldn’t display them. For example, he hides affection and fondness when he’s of the opinion that it would be taken the wrong way. He sometimes conceals his laughter and very often tries to suppress his reaction when he likes what he sees. Though negative emotions like sadness or hurt, yes, he conceals those most regularly.”

 

“Right. What does he do when he’s suppressing laughter?” Potter inquired.

“His eyes crinkle at the corners, and there’s a muscle in his jaw that twitches slightly. When he absolutely likes what he sees, as in, a piece of art or music or clothing, he scrunches up his nose. It’s barely noticeable, but there’s a small crinkle on the bridge of his nose.”

 

Potter smiled. “Sounds like a complicated guy.”

“Not at all. You just have to know how to read him. It’s easy: when he has to reign himself in, like with anger, nervousness and unsettledness, he does something with his hands. Emotions he can’t quite control, like laughter, fear and sadness, are seen in his face. And any other kind of thing, like when he’s hurt or simply very attached to someone, his posture will change or he will make a noticeable gesture.”

 

“How do I see when he’s afraid?” Potter asked, with a soft voice.

Phi gently smiled. “There are a couple of half-blinks where he doesn’t quite close his eyes, his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare. People usually mistake it for anger, but he’s really just in agony. When papa is sad, it’s something like the opposite of fear. He doesn’t blink at all, in case some tears have collected in his eyes, he bites his lip and hollows his cheeks a bit.”

 

“Merlin, all those signs are so small. How do you know all this?”

“I’ve been living with him for nine years now, I know how he works. And I joined him a few times to a formal ball, so I saw exactly how he hides emotions he shouldn’t display. Stupid stiff upper-lip.”

 

Potter laughed. “Is that a Pureblood-thing, or a Malfoy-thing?”

“A little bit of both,” Phi conceded. “When he’s hurt, he gets this really weird posture. His arms and hands seem relaxed, but they hang too still to be real. His shoulders are very stiff and his back is almost unnaturally straight. All his muscles are tensed, truly.” Ophiuchus shook his head unbelievingly. “But one emotion is so fun to watch.”

 

He leaned on the desk with his left elbow and traced his earlobe with his left pointer finger.

 

“When papa is attached to someone, friends or family or something like that, he touches his ear with his pointer finger. Not any other finger; his pointer. And when he really, really likes you, his finger slides down to his chin, as if he’s thinking.”

 

Nodding slowly, as if he was taking it all in, Potter rubbed his hands together.

“So you’re sure that your papa isn’t very angry with me anymore?” he asked, frowning.

“One-hundred percent. Why do you worry about it so much?” Phi laughed unconcernedly. He noticed how Potter’s frown deepened a fraction and opened his mouth slightly, as if he was about to say something. He didn’t, however, so Phi decided to push a bit harder.

 

“Papa can’t really stay angry long at his friends. He’s stubborn, but he feels too protective over people he cares for, to hold a grudge.”

 

Potter thought about this, mulling it over, until a giggle snapped him out of it.

“Right, your essays are due next lesson, so you better hurry up. Don’t forget to include answers to my questions!” he called to the students, right before the lesson was over. Phi slipped out at the same time as the Weasleys and wore a great grin.

 

Draco was happy when his classes were over, especially those with Gryffindor House. Not only were most Gryffindors awful at Potions, but last couple of days, the Weasleys have been watching him intently. It was disconcerting.

 

Also, today he was brewing Amortentia with Theresa, which was always fun. Unfortunately, Theresa couldn’t stop talking about the Slytherin-Gryffindor thing that was still going on. Theresa even said that SHS didn’t stand for Slytherin House Secret, but rather Slytherin House Ship. Then, she had to explain what ‘shipping’ meant.

 

“But listen, Mr. Malfoy, if a Slytherin and a Gryffindor hook up, don’t you think their children will be scary as hell? I mean, a mix of Ravenclaw and Slytherin would be incredibly dangerous, but Slytherin-Gryffindor? That’s terrifying. Don’t you agree?” Theresa rambled. Draco sighed in acquiescence.

 

“Perhaps. Although it’s not exactly how Sorting works. Slytherins don’t always get Slytherin children and Gryffindors don’t always get Gryffindor children. You can’t really call a child of Slytherin-Gryffindor parents a mix of both Houses.”

 

“Obviously not. But their children will get a mixed upbringing. It’s not a coincidence that all Weasleys are in Gryffindor, even though some of them would fit perfectly well in other Houses.”

“Mixed upbringing won’t have the same effect, either. It’s a combination of character and values. Values, one gets by their upbringing, either by following what they were taught, or by turning away from it. Character is unpredictable, however,” Draco stated.

 

“That’s nonsense. Character traits are inherited from parents. It’s in one’s DNA.”

“Doesn’t mean those traits are equally represented in parent and child.”

 

The door opened and revealed James, a bit taken aback by the presence of another student.

 

“James,” Draco greeted cordially. “My apologies, Fridays aren’t free for me, so if you were here for floriography, I will have to disappoint you.”

“Oh, okay. What are you doing then?” James asked curiously.

“Long story short, we’re experimenting with adapted ingredients. Right now, we’re brewing Amortentia.”

 

James nodded, visibly faltering and debating whether to leave or not. If he left, he would have to wait another few days before he could execute the task that was given him by the Project Malfoy-Potter meeting. And this opportunity of Amortentia was too good to miss. But it was embarrassing, standing here with near to no knowledge on potions, watching two experienced Slytherins stirring and adding to the liquid.

 

Luckily, Draco took the decision out of his hands.

 

“I almost forgot, James, about that potion you created yourself.”

 

Theresa looked up with wide eyes and watched James with an assessing expression.

 

“Last month, I have spent my free time researching and retracing the steps you described. I tested the potion, and it seems to work. As your aim was, it is a Healing potion, designed to remove scars?”

 

James nodded mutely, feeling uncomfortable under the heavy gaze of Therese.

 

“Well, it does heal scars. Not all of them, though; one has to apply the potion within 48 hours after the thick crust having loosened. Especially combined with dittany, it works incredibly. Well done, James. You have successfully made your own potion. Theresa, if you would add the last ingredients and stir twenty times clockwise, please.”

 

“Really?” James exclaimed. “It works? That is so cool! And what now?”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to publish it and let it get tested officially by the Ministry. It’s far too valuable to ignore.”

“So it would become a standard Healing potion in apothecaries and such?”

 

When Draco nodded, James let out a –rather embarrassing- squeal. With a few thank yous, he moved to go to his dorm, the match-making task entirely forgotten.

 

“James, hold up!” Draco called out. “Can you tell me what you smell?”

 

James turned around and sniffed the fumes above the cauldron. “It’s a bit vague, actually. But there is something salty in there, like walking along the seashore. And I think it might be a bit flowery.”

“The stirring isn’t completely done yet, so it can be vague, yes. Are those scents good, according to you?”

“Yes, I guess so. I don’t know whether I would associate it with attraction, though.”

 

Draco laughed easily. “No, it’s an odd combination, on first glance. Theresa, what do you smell?”

“Well… Coffee, fish and chips, and … ooh is that… Yes! It smells like my mother’s bacon! She always seasons them a bit before frying. Hmm, I can understand why Amortentia would smell like this to me!” the girl enthused.

 

“And you, Professor Malfoy?” James dared after a couple seconds. He would have to find out; it was too beautiful a chance to pass. And honestly, he wouldn’t know what else to do to achieve his task. He needed to find out.

 

“Mine? I don’t think that’s very important,” Draco shrugged carelessly.

“I think it is,” James protested immediately. “I mean. I haven’t ever smelled Amortentia before, I don’t know whether the scents are the same. You would know, wouldn’t you?”

“Point taken. It is about the same thing as other Amortentias. I suppose it’s correct.”

 

James cursed inwardly. “What do you smell then?” he tried again. He caught Theresa’s narrowed gaze and bit his lip uncertainly. Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, Draco again refused to answer, but Theresa softly cleared her throat.

 

Without releasing James’s gaze, she teased, “Is that scent so incriminating, Mr. Malfoy?”

 

Draco chuckled. “Very incriminating, yes. It’s actually a mix of many things.”

“Like?”

“Well…” Draco hesitated shortly, but closed his eyes as he carefully breathed in. “I smell leather Quidditch gear, still cold from the wind. The old library in the Manor. Log fires, like the one in the Slytherin common room. The cupboard with potions ingredients. Babies,” he chuckled. The soft smile played around his lips, and didn’t leave, even when a small frown appeared between his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he stared at James –or perhaps at something behind him, he couldn’t be sure– with an unreadable gaze.

 

“And some kind of cologne. Theresa, you can go, I’ll clean up. Was there something else you wanted, James?” Draco asked, sounding rather closed-off.

 

James smiled, shook his head and scurried off, still feeling the eyes of Theresa on him.

 

At dinner, many exciting faces were seen. James was telling Lily, Albus, who was joining the Gryffindor table for a few minutes, and the Weasleys about his conversation with Draco. Albus then casually walked to the Slytherins and repeated the story, after which Ophiuchus was sent out to Aquila to inform her as well.

 

“I knew it!” Cassie cried out. “I knew it was the cologne!”

“What cologne? What are you on about?” Scorpius asked, bemused.

“The cologne papa smelled. It’s Harry’s.”

“Obviously it is, I’m not stupid. We established that already. But what do you mean, you knew it?”

 

Cassie grinned secretively. “You know that hoodie papa has? He wears it very often, right, and sometimes sticks his nose in the neck, as if to smell?”

Scorpius nodded. It was a ratty old hoodie, very undignified and much unlike anything else Draco owned. Secondly, it was distinctly Muggle, and didn’t exactly fit Draco right.

 

Draco had no idea that his children knew about this hoodie; he had always been careful to only wear it when his children were, supposedly, sleeping and Astoria was out (or after they were divorced). There was a permanent Glamour on the hoodie, which would ensure that everyone saw a simple yet classy cardigan.

Alas, Draco had no idea that his oldest son once bought a Weasley’s product from his pocket money; a pair of glasses with which you could see through every Glamour. It was fun on the streets, to see how women actually looked, but it had also led to Scorpius finding out exactly what the hoodie looked like.

 

It was dark red with a golden lion on it, bold and clear.

 

“What about that hoodie? Do you know why he Glamours it?” Scorpius asked, suddenly interested.

“I think I do.” Cassie leaned forward to whisper quietly with her brother. “Once, I was sitting in the attic, and there were old papers there, _Daily Prophet_ s and _The Quibbler_ s from decennia ago. In one of them, there was of picture of a certain dark-haired wizard who defeated some very big bad man.”

 

Scorpius’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…”

 

At Cassiopeia’s nod, his hands flew to his hair and he took a few deep breaths.

 

“It’s _his_?!” he whisper-yelled. “He wears _his_ hoodie?!”

Cassie grinned. “And I think he may have cast a scent-preserving spell on it.”

“Where would he have gotten that hoodie?” Scorpius frowned.

“I don’t know. Their Hogwarts days?”

“No, absolutely not. Papa truly hated him, and during the war he wouldn’t have dared to keep such a thing.”

 

Albus abruptly gasped and closed his eyes to think better. Scorpius and Cassie didn’t see it.

 

“How else would he have gotten it? It’s not like papa would have kept it, if he knew it was Harry’s.”

“I’m sorry, Cass, I can’t believe it. I just don’t understand how papa would have gotten a hoodie that was Harry’s. Sorry,” Scorpius said apologetically.

 

Albus shook his head. “Your grandmother,” he stated softly.

 

The two Malfoy children looked at him with surprise and confusion.

“What would Grand-maman have to do with this?” Scorpius wondered.

“Well,” Albus started. “My dad sometimes go to SPEW events, right? For Hermione. When he goes, he usually helps with the finishing touches, so he wears a sweater over his undershirt. Dress shirt and robes or other formal clothing are in this bag he carries, so he can change when everything is done. Perhaps he once forgot to bring his sweater back home?”

 

Cassie started to smile. “Exactly! And Grandmère took it home with her, so she could ask around whose sweater it was.”

“But then Ms. Granger would recognise it at Harry’s. It doesn’t make sense,” Scorpius protested.

“Unless your Grandmère didn’t ask officially, in the board, but just a few members. You once told me that she was still a bit wary of Hermione?”

 

Scorpius bit his lip. “Assuming that is true, how would papa have gotten it?”

“Grandmère keeps the hoodie, because she doesn’t know what else to do with it, right? One day, papa visits them at the Manor, and he is soaked with rain. So, being the good mother she is, Grandmère loans him a ratty old thing she finds somewhere, to warm him up,” Cassie explained.

 

Albus nodded. “And when it’s time for him to leave, his clothes aren’t dry yet, so he brings the hoodie home.”

“And when papa notices how good it smells, he decides to keep it and throw a scent-preserving spell on it,” Scorpius mused. “It still doesn’t sound right; why would papa want to preserve the scent?”

“You underestimate papa’s need for comfort. If it’s a good, attractive smell, why not keep it and sniff the neck, every once in a while? Amortentia is a perfect example of the connection between smell and attraction. If the hoodie is comfortable and smells good, I think papa would totally keep it and preserve the scent,” Cassie stated with conviction. She saw she had practically convinced Scorpius of it.

 

Ophiuchus, who had just joined them, agreed with her and pressed himself against Scorpius’s side. “Besides, if it’s just some random sweater papa had found somewhere, he wouldn’t be Glamouring it. He would just wear it proudly around the house, unless it’s something somewhat special.”

 

“Point taken. Although… How can we be sure that there actually is a different smell on that hoodie?” Scorpius questioned.

“It’s definitely not his own. I’ve noticed several times when I had a nightmare or anything. It’s less elegant than his standard cologne, and much different from his own… his ‘papa’ smell, you know?” Cassie added.

 

“Would he know?” Albus asked suddenly. “Does your papa know it is Dad’s?”

“Perhaps,” Scorpius shrugged. “I think he either recognised it the moment Harry and he started hanging out more regularly, or he realised that the cologne in his Amortentia was the same as the sweater and the same as Harry.”

“But you are sure that he knows?” Cassie cut in.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Papa isn’t oblivious, he notices everything,” Phi opinionated.

“He is a bit stupid, however. I wouldn’t put it past him to conveniently overlook the similarities between those scents.”

Scorpius laughed. “Though if James’s recollection of that moment is correct, I think papa definitely knows the hoodie was Harry’s, no matter when he realised it was. He already accepted that he likes Harry, so he will have no reason to deny it anymore.”

 

This resulted in the other Malfoys and Albus to agree wholeheartedly with him.

 

“Thank Merlin for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes,” Cassie remarked dryly.

 

Draco noticed with narrowed eyes the activity between his children, the Potters and the Weasleys. He didn’t like it, because for some reason, he knew it was about him and Potter. If only he could know exactly what was going on. And if only Potter could stop talking to him.

 

“Malfoy, I still wanted to thank you for helping me with my DADA lesson. I don’t think I would’ve been able to assist every student with their Boggarts,” he said.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have arranged a Boggart for every pair, then. Just one would have sufficed, I think.”

“Then most students wouldn’t have gotten the chance to do anything. You know how it was in our third year.”

“Most students don’t particularly need to learn how to counter a Boggart, since it’s not an everyday occurrence,” Draco rolled his eyes. He heard Potter sigh beside him, but he refused to look.

“However, I do think every student should get the chance to cast a Riddikulus, if only for their self-esteem.”

 

Draco decided not to respond, so it was quiet for a couple minutes.

 

“Why are you so cold lately?” Potter complained then. Placing his fork on his plate, since Draco felt he wouldn’t be able to avoid this discussion, he took a deep breath and turned slightly to at least look Potter in the eye.

 

Mistake.

 

Terrible mistake.

 

Potter was literally pouting, with a tiny little crease between his eyes and the kind of look that Phi gave whenever Draco didn’t allow him to go flying.

 

Those two were far too alike for Draco’s comfort.

 

“Malfoy. Answer me,” Potter demanded.

 

Draco pasted a sneer on his face he didn’t have the energy for. “Because,” he snapped. “I don’t enjoy your company, Potter. Get it through that thick head of yours.”

“I call bullshit,” Potter’s voice sounded, and he lightly smacked his fist on the table. “Just a few months ago, we spent the entire day together and we had a lot of fun. I met Pansy and Blaise.”

“I felt I needed to be polite, since you so graciously saved us from Azkaban,” Draco scowled.

 

Potter saw Draco folding his hands together in the way Ophiuchus had told him meant that Draco was nervous and had to suppress a smirk.

 

“Stop pretending, Malfoy. It can’t have been a coincidence that it started the day after Phi morphed into Voldemort.”

Draco growled. “That day, I realised I had been polite enough to you. I was done with being nice to you. I do not feel the urge to stroke your ego any further. Good day.”  
  


He stood up and marched to the Slytherin common room, to see if there were any more notes on the SHS.  
  
Infuriating, righteous bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you thought of it, don't hesitate to leave tips, tops and whatever you want, press that lovely little kudo button down there and follow me on Tumblr! www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com
> 
> French translations:
> 
> Parles-tu Français -> Do you speak French?  
> Oui -> Yes.  
> Pourquoi -> Why?  
> C’est la langue de nos ancêtres. Et c’est très élégant, non -> It's the language of our ancestors. And it's very elegant, isn't it?  
> Vous parlez couramment le Français -> Do you speak French fluently?  
> Oui, nous sommes élevés des les deux langues -> Yes, we are raised with two languages.


	20. Hogsmeade and articles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo. This is an additional chapter for mora, because she was having a tough week. And because I wanted to write some more. Whoops. It was supposed to be the fluffiest, sweetest chapter of papa!Draco and children, but it turned a bit heavier than I expected. It was also supposed to be 2000 words, as a short extra chapter. But now it's a full chapter. So it's not really additional anymore, it's just a chapter.

The next day was a day without classes, since it was Saturday. It was also a Hogsmeade weekend, and Draco was asked by his children – and begged by Ophiuchus – to go with them. Technically, Cassie wasn’t allowed to go yet, but McGonagall was easily convinced when Draco said it was a family outing.

 

All Malfoys decked themselves in warm coats and scarves. In Hogsmeade, Draco almost lost Phi, because he kept staring at an employee of J. Pippins potions, who was creating colourful fumes to attract clients. Cassie and Aquila were lured into a shop with all kinds of body potions and perfumes. Scorpius stayed at Draco’s side, but his eyes lingered on the Scrivenshaft’s Quills shop. Dervish and Banges’s shop, the one with all kinds of magical instruments, was the only window where their entire family stopped to watch.

 

“Look, papa, the Sugar Quills are on sale!” Cassie exclaimed, pointed at the extraordinarily sized quills in the front of the shop window. “Ten pieces for five Sickles! Papa, can we get some?”

“No,” Draco answered easily. When he saw Cassie’s indignant look, he grinned.

 

“I’m a professor! I’m not going to enable my children to eat during lessons. That is against the code of honour between professors. Besides, they’re bad for you.”

 

Cassie huffed, but let it go. It may have had something to do with the shiny Prophecy Balls that Aquila pointed out to her. Draco smiled at the sight of his children observing the things with sparkling eyes. Their admiration for everything glimmering and visibly valuable was definitely one of the typical Malfoy traits.

 

“Wow…” Scorpius whispered. “What do they do?”

“Sparkle,” Aquila answered dryly, but equally in awe.

“But what do they _do_?” Phi pushed.

 

Cassie straightened up and marched into the shop. “Let’s go ask.”

Draco’s protestations weren’t heard by the other three, already following Cassie in.

 

“Sir? Excuse me, may I ask what those Prophecy Balls do?” Scorpius inquired when he had subtly caught the attention of the owner. The man’s eyes flitted towards Draco when he stepped inside; a light repulsion decorated his expression, before he turned to Aquila and smiled.

 

Scorpius’s jaw clenched and he raised his chin defiantly, but he didn’t react otherwise. Draco lightly placed a hand on his shoulder, which resulted in a barely visible nod in thanks.

 

“Well, Miss, those Balls are our newest invention. They can be used for two things. In Divination class, your crystal ball may not be very clear. What do you do? You grab your Prophecy Ball! It will show you exactly what the crystal ball means. It’s a great way to learn more of Divination and understand what your professor is talking about.”

 

Aquila smiled tightly. Draco suppressed a smile. Of course Aquila would take it as a new method of cheating. Also, Divination wasn’t particularly her favourite course, since she felt it was mostly a load of rubbish. Or, when it was true, it was a dark and pessimistic prophecy, sugar-coated in beautiful words.

 

She preferred to hear the full and honest truth.

 

The owner saw her interest deflate and quickly recovered onto a hopefully more successful track.

“But as I said, there is another use for these Prophecy Balls. Because everyone has to make a choice, right? Which stairs will get you to the Great Hall fastest? Where do you get the cheapest chocolate? What clothes do you wear to your date?” The owner winked at Aquila. “The Prophecy Ball will answer your most mundane questions. 97 per cent of test persons were happier than they had ever been, because this Ball led them to make the right choices. Would you like to try one?”

 

Aquila looked at Draco to see what he thought of it. He raised his eyebrows in response, indicating that it was her choice. Before Aquila could answer the seller, however, Scorpius stepped forward with a slightly dangerous posture.

 

“I would like to try one,” he said proudly. The man nodded tersely and went to grab one of the Balls. Scorpius eyed it suspiciously.

 

“Just speak your question loud and clear, and it will answer you. Go ahead, try,” the owner encouraged.

 

“What should I order at the Three Broomsticks later today?” Scorpius asked, with a mischievous smile sent Draco’s way. He snorted softly. The Prophecy Ball coloured green and purple, and then showed two words: ‘spiked Butterbeer.’

 

Draco chuckled at that. “No way, mister. Try again when you’re seventeen.”

“Oh let me!” Cassie demanded impatiently. She grabbed the Ball and asked, “Which Chocolate Frog cards are the most uncommon?”

 

After a second, the name ‘Minerva McGonagall’ appeared. Cassie squealed in delight.

“I’ve got her! I’ve got the most uncommon card!”

 

Draco laughed and picked the Ball from her hands, since she was almost dropping it. “Anyone else who would like to try this Prophecy Ball? No? Anyone who would like to buy it? ‘Quila?”

 

Aquila smiled apologetically and started to shake her head, when the seller cut in to try and convince her. Draco let it happen for a second, because he thought Aquila could handle herself well enough. When the man held on to Aquila’s arm to stop her from walking away, Draco cleared his throat and stepped up.

 

“I think we don’t want it. My apologies.”

 

The seller winked again. “So you don’t want to know how to dress to impress your date?”

Aquila seemed very uncomfortable now. Draco felt anger flare up.

 

“That won’t be necessary, since she does not have a date,” he stated firmly. A voice from behind made him turn around quickly.

 

“Even if she did, she didn’t need something that doesn’t even work properly,” George Weasley shrugged. He was accompanied by Ron Weasley and Potter. “Perhaps you should check some of the charms on it. It doesn’t bear in mind age, gender, preferences and habits of the questioner. Low craftsmanship, to be honest.”

 

The man of the shop blanched. Looking around to see whether other customers were listening, he took the Prophecy Ball and placed it back in the window, after which he stayed away from Draco and his children.

“That bad?” Potter asked George when the man was gone. George shrugged again.

“Not per se, I just thought it would do the trick.” He grinned. “Malfoy, good to see you again.”

 

Draco shook his hand in a sort of daze. He turned to Ron with an unsure smile. Before they could greet each other, Ophiuchus – bless his innocent enthusiasm – spoke up.

 

“Ron! I’ve got your Chocolate Frog card! I actually have a couple of them. And your wife, too. We really are in awe of what she pulled off with SPEW, it’s a very good cause. Grandmother is in the board, do you know?” he rattled.

 

Scorpius and Aquila shared a secret smile. Phi really was good in deflecting tension and changing the subject. It must have something to do with his youthful happiness.

 

Ron chuckled at Phi. “I know, your grandmother did a good job with the latest SPEW event. Hermione is very impressed with her work ethic.”

 

Cassie kept looking at George with wide eyes. After a few seconds, she whispered, “Do you have any good stuff I can use during my classes?”

 

George burst out in laughter. “Sure thing. I can show you some things in our outlet, if you want? You’ll even get a discount.”

Cassie brightened. “So you have things to scare my professors?”

“More than just your professors. Ever wanted to terrify Peeves? Ever thought of scaring Mrs. Filch away from your hiding spot? Ever wished you could frighten the portraits? We’ve got just what you need!”

 

Aquila joined them out of curiosity. “Why would you want to frighten the portraits?”

George grinned wickedly. “Well, my young innocent girl. Those portraits are the most hilarious victims of a well-aimed prank. You wouldn’t know if you’ve never tried it. It’s worth the detention!”

 

“You get detention for it?” Cassie complained.

“Only when you get caught.”

“Get caught doing what?” Draco asked. His expression told quite clearly that he knew exactly why his daughters were talking to George Weasley.

 

Cassie smiled up at him. “Nothing, of course. Don’t you know we are the sweetest, most obedient students you’ll ever encounter?”

“Also, we would like to go to the Weasley’s outlet, if that’s all right with you,” Aquila supplied.

 

Draco pretended to think, but his daughters knew him too well. They saw a small crinkle in the corners of his eyes, indicating his mirth. Draco’s pointer finger went up to his earlobe and then back down to his chin. Cassie grinned.

 

“Sure, go ahead. We’ll meet in the Three Broomsticks at two, all right?”

 

Their affirmatives were lost in the sound of giggling and wild questions about how George made all his objects.

 

Phi and Scorpius were lost in a discussion with Ron, something to do with house elves or a replacement of them by another species. Draco was reluctant to break up their fun, but didn’t know what else to do. When he caught Potter’s gaze, he was suddenly much less reluctant to drag his sons away from Ron.

 

“Hi Malfoy,” Potter said shortly. Draco merely nodded.

“You going to Three Broomsticks later?” Potter then asked. Draco nodded again.

“So it’s a family thing today?” A third nod.

“Thought so. Cassie’s not supposed to go out to Hogsmeade yet.” A shrug.

“Good conversation,” Potter sighed.

“What did you expect? A hug, a kiss and a story before bedtime?” Draco snapped.

 

Potter’s eyes sparked with something like accomplishment. “A few weeks back, that wouldn’t have been the craziest thing to ask.”

“Delusions, Potter.” Draco swallowed. He had almost thought Potter knew about this silly fancy, but he trusts his children to be somewhat discreet with their suspicions.

 

Potter scoffed. “Delusions? Was two nights ago a delusion?”

“Hush, Potter. You make it sound like we hooked up,” Draco hissed, aware of his children standing just a few feet away.

 

It got Potter quiet for a couple long seconds. “You hate me,” he stated flatly. There was a question in there somewhere.

“Yes,” Draco said, not sure whether he was confirming the statement of answering the unsaid question.

“Then why do you keep helping me with my nightmares?”

 

Draco turned to face Potter fully with one of his best scowls. The way Potter visibly jerked his head back, told Draco that his facial expression was perhaps even more threatening than he had intended.

 

“I think that was clear. I don’t like the idea of anyone having nightmares, no matter who it is.”

“I know that, but why do that thing you always do?” Potter sounded slightly distressed.

“Very eloquent.”

“You know. When you hold me like that. It’s… disconcerting.”

“Then stop coming to me.”

“I can’t. You’re the only one that can help me.”

“Then don’t complain.”

“Malfoy!” Potter exclaimed, stomping his foot like a child. Ron, Scorpius and Phi looked up to see what was going on. Draco lightly shook his head to his children, who then drew Ron back into the conversation.

 

“What do you want, Potter?”

“You don’t actually hate me, do you?” Potter asked softly.

 

Draco sighed. “I think you can answer that for yourself,” he answered as icily as he could.

“Scorp, Phi, let’s go meet your sisters in the Three Broomsticks. They’ll be there in a few minutes,” he then said with a loud voice. His sons seemed confused but don’t protest.

 

When the three of them, Ophiuchus wearing blonde hair and pointy features, left the shop, Draco heard Potter say, “They were meeting in an hour. He’s lying. He refuses to talk to me.”

Draco doesn’t wait for Ron’s response.

“Something wrong with Professor Potter?” Scorpius asked carefully, when they were walking through the main street of Hogsmeade.

Draco shook his head. “Just him being a Gryffindor.”

“What does that even mean?” Ophiuchus complained. “You always say that when he has annoyed you.”

 

Scorpius touched Phi’s back in a subtle warning, and steered the conversation away from Potter. Draco sometimes fears the perceptiveness of his children. Had he been the same, when he was younger? If he had had siblings, would they have been just as subtle and clever when it came to body language and non-verbal communication?

 

It truly was no wonder that Draco’s best spells were wordless ones, and that Scorp and Aquila could already do many silent charms.

 

“Shall we pick them up in the Weasley’s shop?” Scorpius suggested brightly, already walking in that direction. “Perhaps we can stop them from throwing away all their pocket money. I’m sure that the Weasley’s have more than a few cool items there, and Cassie’s never been good in saving up.”

 

Draco nodded silently while Phi and Scorpius carry on the conversation. When they entered Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, they saw Cassie as well as Aquila with their arms full of items to buy. George was laughing and waving away their money. The moment he saw Draco, he walked up to him.

 

“I heard from your daughters that you don’t particularly like to be called Malfoy anymore. I’m sorry. Can I call you Draco then?” he said smilingly. Draco returned the smile.

“Please, do so. Have you sold your entire shop to those two?”

 

George laughed again. “No, not even close. I hope it’s not a problem that they get it for free?”

“Free? Why? Were they begging? I told them they shouldn’t beg, because it’s far too effective and not polite, but –“

“No, no, don’t worry, mate,” George chuckled. “They did beg, but I was already thinking of giving them free stuff. As a sort of thank you. I mean, you know you’re teaching my daughter, right? She adores you. She has written a few letters in which she doesn’t do much more than gush about you. I can spare a few items for your children.”

 

Draco smiled, looking down at the ground. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And Roxane is a lovely student. She is a lot quieter than I had feared, with you as her father.”

“I know, it’s conspicuous, isn’t it?” George turned serious. “But ehm, I noticed some tension between you and Harry still. I thought you were okay now, like you were sort of friends. Did something happen? What did Harry do? He’s immensely stupid, but he usually means well.”

“No, nothing happened,” Draco assured him. “We’re just not on as good terms as everyone seems to believe.”

 

George assessed him with narrowed eyes and a bright gaze that almost scared Draco, since he knew how perceptive the twins had always been.

 

After a second or two, George’s eyes widened and he ushered Draco to the back, where it was quiet and empty.

 

“Sit,” George ordered. Draco raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway.

“Spill,” George demanded then. When Draco remained silent, George rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. What’s going on with you and Harry?”

 

Draco shrugged. “We fought,” he lied.

It resulted in a deep sigh from George. “I know Harry wants to befriend you. Why don’t you let him?”

“Because there are people who you just don’t want to be friends with.”

“I think there is something else going on.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

 

George took a breath, carefully watching Draco and measuring him up. “You like him, don’t you?”

Draco folded his hands together neatly to have something to do. “Why in Merlin’s name would you think that?”

“I’m not stupid. Look, Draco, you don’t have to admit it to me. I already know. But at least admit it to yourself.”

 

He stood up and walked away. Draco breathed deeply. Was he really that obvious? He had always prided himself on being subtle and capable enough in hiding his emotions, but apparently, everyone could see right through him.

 

His Mother hadn’t mentioned it yet, but soon enough she would understand just why Draco had stopped talking about Potter in his letters. On the evening of the SPEW event, she had asked for Potter’s favourite chocolate flavours, which was as good of a blessing Draco could get.

 

Merlin, did everyone know? His children, obviously, probably Albus as well, Neville of course. Did Potter know? What if he did? They had flirted that one time, but –

 

No.

 

Draco left the back to find his children in the shop, George laughing with them and giving them more and more items. After shrinking everything so if easily fit into everyone’s pockets, they left the shop in order to go the Three Broomsticks. There, they found it to be filled to the brim. There was just one table left.

 

Of course, that was just Draco’s luck. Phi and Cassie ran towards the empty table, which was conveniently, right next to Potter and Ron’s. Cassie wiggled around until she was seated next to Ron, and as such, it was determined that they would shove the tables together as one.

 

The lengths to which Draco was willing to go for his children, was remarkable, if he said so himself.

 

“So eh Draco, you’re Potions professor now?” Ron asked, a little uncomfortably. Draco nodded and forced himself to smile.

“I am. I have taken over from Higgins, so I became Head of Slytherin House as well.”

“So I heard. You like your job?”

 

Draco let himself relax somewhat. “Very much. It’s far better to teach Potions and brew experimentally in my free time, than to be forced to do it as a student.”

 

Ron grinned. “I can’t imagine. Potions will always be awful for me. But Rose and Hugo seem to enjoy it.” He looked at Phi, who was talking animatedly with the bartender and was actually able to get a smile on her face.

“Your youngest is quite… energetic,” he said with a wink. Draco laughed. “He most certainly is. Especially when Cassie is egging him on. Those two together is a disaster.”

“Really? How so?”

 

Draco rubbed his eyes. “Cassie is a disaster with every one of my children. She can’t sit still for a second and she’s so incredibly loud. But with Phi, she gets a little worse. Phi loves to go along with her plans, which only makes her plans grow wilder and wilder. You won’t believe the things she’s tried.”

“I heard something about a hospital bed and racing?” Ron chuckled. “Is that the average, or …?”

 

Looking at Potter to see if he was listening, Draco nodded. “That’s average, yes. Sometimes I wonder whether something has gone wrong in her brain.”

“Hey!” Cassie yelled indignantly. She crawled under table towards Draco and jumped on his lap. “That’s not nice, papa.”

 

Draco huffed out a laugh. “Cass, how many times do I have to tell you? No crawling over floors of pubs and inns. They’re filthy.”

“You were saying mean things about me. I do not tolerate such insulting behaviour,” she added with a haughty glare. Her accent had been a spot on imitation of Draco’s. Ron was doubling over with laughter.

 

Two can play at this game, Draco thought. He raised an imperial eyebrow at his daughter to match her glare. “If your own behaviour would be tolerable, I would not need to insult you.”

“Insults are never a good method of upbringing,” Cassie held on. Her mask was failing, though. Her mouth twitched with how hard she was trying not to laugh. “One should always improve behaviour through stimulation and praise.”

“One should also not comment on matters of private concern, when in public,” Draco shot back.

“You started it!” Cassie exclaimed. The moment she noticed that she had broken out of her role, she collapsed against Draco’s chest and started laughing. Draco just rolled his eyes and held her close.

 

Scorpius leaned in to Aquila. “Say, sis. Is it just me, or is that man staring weirdly at us?”

“What man?”

 

Looking around and being pointed which man Scorpius meant, she shrugged. “I think it’s just another prejudiced guy. Not everyone appreciates papa being here.”

“But –“

“No, Scorp, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry so much, will you?” Aquila smiled gently, after which she started a conversation with Potter. Scorpius frowned. He didn’t feel right about it.

 

He was right, when the next morning, _The Daily Prophet_ released an edition with a front page covered with an article about Draco and Potter.

 

**Harry Potter in relationship with Death Eater?**

\- by Anonymously Observant, our regular anonymous journalist.

 

An owl sent to me caught my interest. The owl, from a reliable source, told me that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were getting close. They are both Professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, our Saviour teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Draco Malfoy Potions. Mr. Malfoy also is assigned position of Head of Slytherin House.

 

Ever since the beginning of this school year, when both gentlemen started their teaching positions, they seemed to be on very good terms. At breakfast, lunch and dinner, they enjoyed each other’s company at the High Table, having long conversations that caused them both to be late to several lessons. Our source even told us how they had seen Mr. Potter sneaking to the Slytherin dorms late at night.

 

The question that has been bothering me, is whether they are in a relationship. It may seem odd, since they were on the complete opposite sides of the War. As we all know, Mr. Potter was the one person who could kill You-Know-Who. He led the Light Side to victory and saved us all from a toxic man.

 

Mr. Malfoy, however, is heir of the Malfoy line, a pureblood family that goes centuries back. His father, Lucius Malfoy, has been supportive of You-Know-Who ever since the First Wizarding War. Not only was he supportive, he was You-Know-Who’s most loyal servant. In the Second Wizarding War, he housed the man and hosted several meetings. He also led many raids, killings and other Dark activities. Lucius Malfoy has received high fines as punishment, but never anything else.

 

Draco Malfoy took the Dark Mark when he was sixteen years old. He was accused of killing Mr. Dumbledore, the former Head Master of Hogwarts, but at his trials, he was cleared of this accusation, as his godfather, Severus Snape, finished the job Mr. Malfoy was assigned. Since his trials, Mr. Malfoy married pureblood Astoria Greengrass and had four children with her. Three years back, the year his oldest children attended Hogwarts for the first time, the announcement of their divorce came through.

 

Harry Potter himself divorced from school-romance Ginny Weasley after having three children together, and at the same time, came out as being gay. Draco Malfoy never announced any such thing.

 

So, what are the reasons why our reliable source thought they might be in a relationship? Skipping over the fact that we do not know for sure whether Mr. Malfoy falls for men, there really are much hints that indicate their interest. As said before, on several occasions, the gentlemen have been late for their classes, because they were distracted by their conversation. It is known that Mr. Malfoy never is late for anything, and Mr. Potter only with good reason. Would a conversation with his colleague be a good enough reason for The Boy Who Lived Twice?

 

Furthermore, sneaking to each other’s dorms at night is hardly something you do when you’re not romantically involved, is it? I do not want to insinuate anything, but I have only snuck to one dorm in my entire life, and that was with because I had a nightmare and asked my girlfriend-at-the-time to comfort me. That girlfriend is now my wife. To conclude, I would think that this behaviour is highly suspicious.

 

I went to do some research. My source told me that yesterday would be a Hogsmeade weekend and Draco Malfoy would go out with his children. I decided to follow him, to see if Mr. Malfoy might be buying presents for a love-interest.

 

He didn’t buy any presents, but it did get saucy. The Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, the joke shop of George and Ron Weasley, friends, adopted family and family-in-law of our Mr. Potter, was visited by the entire Malfoy family. There, the children were given many free items, while George Weasley laughed ‘welcome to the family!’ He also had a private moment with Mr. Malfoy, from which Mr. Malfoy reappeared a bit nervously, but very gratefully. Did George Weasley give their relationship his blessing? Has he forgiven Mr. Malfoy for his actions, because Mr. Potter loved him so?

After the joke shop, the five Malfoys met Ron Weasley and Mr. Potter in the Three Broomsticks Inn. The Malfoy children seemed very well acquainted with both men and did not have any scruples in talking to them. Draco Malfoy seemed tense in the beginning, but when he had been able to make Ron Weasley laugh, he relaxed considerably.

 

In the Three Broomsticks, there was near to none interaction between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, which was a surprising occurrence, based on what my source told me. However, there were many secret glances, in which Mr. Malfoy was much more subtle than Mr. Potter. At a certain point, Mr. Potter gave up all pretence and just kept staring at his supposed partner.

 

All in all, I cannot give you a complete conclusion, since it is not clear for me either. The question interests me more than I expected, especially because their behaviour is so ambiguous. I understand it is a pressing matter for many of you, readers. Therefore I promise that I will keep researching, until I know for sure whether Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are in a relationship.

 

Until later!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, tell me what you think! Comments and kudos make Draco and Harry get together faster!
> 
> Tumblrrrrrrrr i-am-and-proud


	21. Nagini

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is angsty. Problems, drama, difficulty, you name it. It's here. My apologies.
> 
> After this chapter, it will all be better. This is the low point of this entire story.
> 
> Follow me on the Tumble door! i-am-and-proud

Breakfast was awful. It had been fine, until the Owl Post arrived and everyone received their _Daily Prophet_. From then, Potter and Draco had been on the receiving end of many curious looks. Luckily, Potter understood that it wasn’t in their best interest to start talking, so the both of them remained quiet for the entirety of the meal. Classes were highly awkward, especially those with Potter and Weasley spawn. Lunch was… Well.

 

Right at the beginning of lunch time, when Draco had only just seated himself, Mr. Filch wobbled up to the High Table and bowed close to Draco’s head.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but there is someone here to see you,” he said. Draco frowned, and not just from the fact that Filch behaved and moved exactly like his house-elf Harky.

“I don’t expect anyone,” Draco said more to himself than to Filch.

“She said you wouldn’t mind seeing her.”

 

It slowly clicked. There was only one woman who thought she had the right to waltz into Hogwarts to speak to Draco. He sighed softly.

 

“Who is it then?” he asked, just to be sure.

“Astoria Greengrass, sir.”

 

Draco nodded and stood up, brushing his robes as a calming aid and rubbing his sleeves in one smooth stroke to make sure he looked up to boot. Today, he was wearing forest green suede. It was a beautiful material, but was difficult to maintain in good condition.

 

When he strode through the Great Hall to meet Astoria in the entryway, he knew he attracted attention. His children gazed at him with sharp eyes and obviously looked at each other to see if either of their siblings knew what was happening.

 

Right outside the Great Hall, as if she had been readying herself to walk into the Hall herself, there was Astoria, looking pretty as ever. Unfortunately, she knew how she looked and didn’t hesitate to stick her nose in the air. Aquila was much lovelier.

 

“Draco,” Astoria greeted. Draco smiled at her, not as genuine as he would with his children or Pansy and Blaise, but certainly not cold.

 

They had been married for fifteen years, for Merlin’s sake.

 

“Astoria, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Draco returned kindly, holding her hand and kissing her cheek.

 

Astoria sniffed. “You know why. Don’t play dumb.”

 

Ah, and that is why they had divorced after those fifteen years. Draco internally rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Astoria was referring to.

 

“Astoria, I can assure you that Potter and I are not in a relationship,” he stated firmly. They let go of hands. At Draco’s words, Astoria turned sharp.

 

“That is utter nonsense. I know that you are in a relationship with him, Draco. I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not saying you are, but truly, we are not together in any way.”

“Do you really think I’ll believe that? He is your type in every aspect! You can’t honestly say that you are not attracted to him.”

 

Draco clenched his jaw. “I don’t –“

“If you’re going to say that you don’t have a type, I’m going to kill you,” Astoria snarled.

“I don’t like him that way, Astoria. I don’t want a relationship with him, for these exact reasons. And most of all, I don’t appreciate your implications.”

 

At that moment, Scorpius walked up to them and went to stand next to Draco.

 

“Anything wrong?” he asked softly. Astoria’s eyes brightened.

“Scorpius! My precious boy, how are you, sweetheart? I haven’t seen you in the longest of time!” she cooed.

“I’m fine, thanks. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I come and see my little man?” Astoria asked sweetly.

“I’m not little anymore.”

“You’ll always be my little darling. Precious, your papa and I need to talk a bit more. Can I have a private moment with him? I’ll see you after that, of course, love.”

 

Scorpius shared a sceptic look with Draco, but at Draco’s reassuring nod, he took a breath and left, murmuring under his breath.

 

Returning to the Great Hall, where Aquila, Cassiopeia and Ophiuchus, as well as all Potter children had gathered at the Ravenclaw table, he put on an ugly face.

 

“It’s Mother,” he announced darkly. Cassie groaned.

“What did she want?” Albus asked.

“Well, papa was just talking when I walked in, so I can’t tell you exactly what Mother said, but I’m sure it’s about the article. She wasn’t happy.”

 

Lily frowned. “Someone needs to go in there to stop your mother from convincing your papa that it’s wrong.”

“No,” Aquila shook her head. “It won’t work, papa doesn’t let himself be convinced. If he wants something, it’ll happen.”

Cassie snorted. “Right, because we are totally not meddling in his love life to make sure he gets what he wants. Besides, he wouldn’t want any of us to get in the middle of whatever their argument is. He doesn’t want to bother us with his problems.”

“And then they call our dad a martyr,” Lily huffed. James let out a surprised laugh.

 

“Anyways,” Scorpius took over the conversation again. “We do need to send someone in. Any volunteers?”

 

Aquila, Cassie, Phi, Albus and Lily all shrugged to indicate they wouldn’t mind so much, but Scorpius stared at James.

 

“Very kind of you to volunteer, James. Just get papa away from Mother, all right? Saying that the cauldrons have exploded will do.”

 

James sputtered for a second, but quickly gave up and sauntered to where Draco was still talking to Astoria.

In the hallway, Astoria scowled lightly at her ex-husband. “Draco, you cannot get involved with him. I don’t care about what reasons you choose, but think of the children!” Draco suppressed the urge to scoff. “It’s bad enough you let Scorpius befriend Albus, but this? This way, all our children will be defiled by Potters and Weasleys.”

 

Her speech grew animated and her eyes became unnaturally wide.

 

“Perhaps,” she gasped. “Perhaps one of our treasures will even get involved with one of the Weasleys! Can you imagine the pain you would inflict on your parents? The shame that will wash over the Malfoy heritage?”

 

Draco closed his hand over his fist to conceal his anger and took a few deep breaths. Before he could answer, however, a voice interrupted them.

 

“Professor Malfoy? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” James said. Astoria narrowed her eyes at him and then at Draco.

 

“But ehm, a few cauldrons have exploded.”

“Cauldrons?” Draco frowned. “There was no – oh. Oh yes, of course. I will be right there. Astoria, we will have to continue this conversation another time.”

 

Astoria grimaced. “Shall I just go up to your apartment, then?”

“I think this problem will take the entire day, and Phi needs to be put to bed, and it’ll be chaotic. I could owl you later to make a new appointment,” Draco said, slowly backing away with James.

“Perhaps I should come back tomorrow?”

“We’ll keep in touch!”

 

Draco and James quickly marched away towards the dungeons, while Draco asked many questions about the amount of cauldrons that had exploded.

 

When they turned a corner, Draco slumped against the wall and smiled.

 

“Nice work, James. I appreciate it. I reckon Scorpius made you do it?”

James grinned. “It was a consensus. But will she come back tomorrow?”

 

Draco frowned. “I’ll just have Cassiopeia or Aquila send her a letter, asking her why she didn’t come and visit them. We won’t hear from her in the next three months.”

“Sounds like a bad relationship,” James remarked carefully.

“Not per se bad, we just had… different reasons to get children. Her reasons were less to do with her wish to be a mother than providing continuation of the line.”

 

A pensive silence followed.

 

“Professor Malfoy? I kind of need you help on something,” James said eventually. “It’s about Suzanne.”

“That girl you like? What about her?”

“She said hi to me today.”

 

Draco chuckled. “What an occurrence, are you okay? It must have been a major shock. How incredible!” he gasped sarcastically, making James smile.

“No but, listen! It was during class.”

“Bad student, she is. I should detract a few points from Gryffindor then.”

“Draco!” James laughed loudly. Draco started at the use of his first name, but James didn’t seem to realise. “It was during class, via a note. She had folded it into an origami bird, and she sent it, you know, with a blow kiss.”

 

Raising his eyebrows, Draco examined James’s blush. “All right, that is very cute.”

“Have you ever sent such a note?” James asked, trying to get the attention away from him. Draco smirked.

“I can remember an instance where I sent an origami bird, but it was by no means kindly meant. What did that note of Suzanne say?”

 

James grimaced. “’Hi.’ That was it. Literally.”

“Ouch. Did you reply?”

“I said: ‘Hello yourself’ with a smiley face,” James blushed again.

“Just a smiley face?”

“It may have been a winky face.”

“How daring of you. How did she react?”

 

James made an ugly face. “She showed it to her friends and giggled. I haven’t spoken her since.”

Draco winced in sympathy. “That hurts. So now what?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came to you.”

“James,” Draco sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve realised, but I really have no experience with the female species.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” James replied cheekily, daring to send Draco a knowing grin. “The way you flounce around is a valid indicator.”

 

A frown appeared on Draco’s face, and James blanched slightly, but didn’t backtrack. Ridiculous Gryffindors.

 

“But still, you have been married for fifteen years. You must know something about women,” James held on.

“You just witnessed what my marriage entailed.”

“You have two daughters, and they are quite content with you as their papa. Don’t you think you’re doing something right?”

 

Draco sighed, scenes of Aquila and Matias together flashing to the forefront of his mind. “I honestly have no idea what to look for, I usually just know. I can’t explain it. But I’ll try to find out whether she likes you, and if she does, I’ll help you. Do we have a deal?”

 

James swayed forward as if he had wanted to give Draco a hug, but stopped himself soon enough. A brilliant smile overtook his face instead and he cried, “Thank you so much!” before he disappeared to have a quick lunch before afternoon classes began.

 

And after those classes… Oh Merlin, Draco had promised McGonagall to have a little duelling demonstration, as an attractive sort of thing to motivate students in their studying.

 

What a great prospect for the day. Grumpy by his conversation with Astoria and the realisation of not having a free afternoon, Draco stomped to his classroom to wait for his students.

 

At the same time, Cassie had occupied her papa’s chair at the High Table, because she wanted to talk to Potter. McGonagall had disapproved, but when she smiled sweetly and promised that it was about an assignment she didn’t understand, McGonagall caved for her charm and allowed it.

“I wonder whether papa is doing well, he has been gone for a while now,” Cassie observed casually. Potter grumbled, rather annoyed. When Cassie seemed to shrink in on herself at his cranky tone, he quickly smiled at her.

 

“He’s talking to your … maman?” Potter asked, hesitating at which word he should use for their other parent.

“I believe so. It’s never pretty, when Mother and papa talk. Mother does not like papa.”

“That doesn’t surprise me; he took away her children. No mother wants to live without her children.”

 

Cassie flung around to glare at Potter. “Excuse me?” she asked angrily. “Mother herself decided to leave us. She doesn’t want us!”

“Perhaps because your papa pushed her away when she was struggling with Aquila being in Ravenclaw. She wasn’t right, but your papa could have been more understanding!” Potter challenged.

 

“You don’t know anything.” Cassie spat. “Mother cheated on him. With Theo Nott. They hadn’t married out of love, but they had an agreement. Papa allowed Mother to sleep with whoever she wanted, as long as we wouldn’t find out. But Scorpius saw them, when they were on a date in Diagon. Mother broke the promise!”

 

Potter seemed floored for a second. “Apparently, she really wanted to be away from your papa. I can’t blame her. He’s still wearing the Dark Mark,” he sneered then.

“Stop right there!” Cassiopeia shrieked. She huffed a few times, like she was grappling to understand what was happening.

 

When she had reigned herself in, she straightened her back and stood up, calmly looking down at Potter.

“You don’t have the right to say that. You don’t have the right to insult my papa like that, at all. He has made mistakes, I know he has. I know he was on the wrong side of the war. I know he has cast Unforgivables, and I think he may have killed people. He was a child! And he is trying to become a better person. Ever since the war, he has tried to make up for his mistakes!”

 

Her voice turned low, threatening. “And that is more than we can say for you. You act like you have never done something wrong! But we all know that you have made mistakes as well. Horrible mistakes that have hurt people.” With a piercing gaze, she added, “The scars of your mistake used to terrify me.”

 

The look of shock in Potter’s face was quickly concealed, but it gave Cassie a thrill of accomplishment.

 

“So before you start thinking you can judge papa because of the scar on his forearm, you should think about the scar on his chest, and re-evaluate your opinion. Good day, Professor.”

 

Cassie swung around with an imperial fling of her hair and marched back to her siblings on the Slytherin table.

 

Afternoon classes were stilted and tensed, in Draco’s classes, as well as Potter’s, as well as all children’s. It only added to Draco’s irritation and he irked to let out some steam. Unfortunately, right after afternoon classes ended, Draco was supposed to be at the duelling demonstration, and actually take part in it. He didn’t feel good about it.

 

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” McGonagall spoke. “All of you are taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but I think many of you have no idea what the use of those spells is. Therefore, we have organised this: a demonstration of skilled professors, showing what they have learned.”

 

The Great Hall was cleared away from dinner tables and one long, official duelling platform was created in the middle. All Hogwarts students had gathered around, the teachers were posed behind McGonagall.

 

“The teachers will show you what Defense can be good for and how to use it right. You can also see what a duel will look like. Now, are there two professors who would like to start?”

 

And so, the duelling demonstration began. The students seemed to enjoy themselves, and many hexes and jinxes had fun effects, so no traumatised children would have to be carried out. It was all fun and games, because of which Draco relaxed.

 

Somewhere at the end however, McGonagall asked him to perform some spells. Even though Draco consented, he felt it would go wrong. When Potter climbed up the stage at the other side, he knew it would go wrong.

 

“In your positions,” McGonagall called. Draco braced himself and raised his wand arm above his head. The first Jellylegs jinx was flying before he could think of his own attack, but his reflexes were quick enough to cast a Shield.

 

The duel stayed innocent enough, until McGonagall left to her office for … something. Potter’s face twisted in a scowl that turned uglier with every Shield Draco threw up and every offensive spell he countered. He refused to attack, but stayed with his defensive tactic, since he wasn’t sure how it would be perceived if he hurt the Wizarding Wonder.

 

“Can’t you do anything else, Malfoy?” Potter jeered. “Can’t think of a single offensive spell that isn’t Dark?” The last sentence was uttered so softly, that Draco had to read Potter’s lips to find out what it had been. At least his children hadn’t heard. Draco kept quiet and cast counter-hex after counter-jinx.

 

“Perhaps you should sit in with my lessons, I’m sure someone else could take over your Potions classes.”

 

Draco didn’t respond.

 

“It’s not as if you are irreplaceable as a teacher, right?”

 

No reaction.

 

“I could help you with your duelling skills, if you want to?”

 

At this, Draco snapped. “You think you can help everyone, don’t you?” he growled. “You can’t.” He did a step forward and sent a vicious Stinging hex to Potter’s upper arm.

“And even if you could, I still wouldn’t want your help. Merlin knows the entire Slytherin House wanted your help when we most needed it, but then you couldn’t see us as human beings.”

 

A Pepper breath hex followed this statement, which was unexpected by Potter. He coughed violently as a result of the hex and then sneezed at Draco’s next hex, at the same time casting a Shield charm to stop whatever Draco would sent next.

 

“You could never see Slytherins as anything but monsters,” Draco breathed hatefully. He threw a wordless curse on Potter’s left arm, which was powerful enough to crash through Potter’s shield and hit him right below the elbow. Potter jerked back, gripping his arm, hissing from pain.

 

Obviously, a Broken Bone curse would hurt like hell.

 

“But let me make one thing clear. Most Slytherins would never have done the things they did, if only they were treated equally.”

 

When Potter looked up from his arm, his face displayed a rage Draco hadn’t ever seen before. He suppressed the urge to flee, and remained where he was, defiantly staring Potter down.

 

The next movement was completely unexpected, and the Shield charm Draco cast, turned out to be useless.

 

“ _Serpensortia!_ ” Potter yelled.

 

What appeared wasn’t the rattlesnake Draco had managed in second year. It wasn’t anything like a python or cobra.

 

Nagini slithered Draco’s way.

 

Time slowed down. Draco felt his breath being punched out of him and he couldn’t move. His right hand inched towards his left forearm, but he refused to give in to it.  
  
Draco heard a piercing cry, coming from Cassiopeia. She must have realised that her dreams weren’t dreams after all.  
  
Potter’s face turned guilty when he heard Cassie’s agonised scream, but he masked it soon enough.  
  
Scorpius gathered Cassie in his arms and let her heaving body lean heavily into his. He had curled around her protectively, and had placed a hand on Albus’s shoulder to keep him from storming onto the platform.  
  
Albus didn’t seem angry with Draco though. His furious gaze was directed at Potter.  
  
While Scorpius seemed calm and in control, his eyes couldn’t hide his emotions. They were burning with so much rage, so much hatred, that Draco almost feared for Potter’s well-being.  
  
In the same second that Nagini had appeared, Aquila had drawn her wand, pointed at the snake, in case anything would make it attack. She was breathing deeply to remain rational, but her eyes flitted to Draco, to Potter, to the snake and back to Draco.

  
James and Lily both had their hands on their wands, ready to intervene if that was necessary.  
Where was Ophiuchus? He was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Draco’s eyes drifted back to Potter, to see his tensed position, every muscle poised to move. Behind him, Phi finally appeared.  
  
He was terrifying.  
  
He slowly moved up to Potter’s back, appearing from the mass of students behind him, with his fists clenched. His face had the pointy features of the Malfoy bloodline, but he had black hair and black eyes. Actually _black_ eyes. The gnarl he wore, displayed two canines that were much sharper than humanly possible. His eyes conveyed a look that one would usually expect on a predator lurking on its prey, as if he was preparing to rip Potter’s throat off.  
  
Draco’s right hand had closed itself around his forearm, around the Mark, that twisted and turned and bit. He was petrified, metaphorically and literally. Draco couldn’t move anymore, too invested in standing upright, in not screaming his lungs out, in breathing in and out and in.  
  
A low growl emitted from Ophiuchus, which caught Potter’s attention. Potter swirled around, Phi was hit by a Stunning Spell from Aquila and…  
  
Nagini attacked.  
  
Draco knew he had to move, he had to get his legs working, he had to run or at least try to ward off the snake. He couldn’t, though. He saw the jaws of Nagini opening, her fangs dripping poison. He saw her red eyes boring into his, so he closed them. Then he heard, in the deafening silence of the Great Hall – who knew students could be so quiet.  
  
 _“Well done, Draco.”  
  
_ No. Never again. Draco opened his eyes, seeing Nagini just a few inches from his neck. Concentrating hard, he yelled, “ _VIPERA EVANESCA_!” right before the ugly snake would sink his fangs in Draco’s flesh.  
  
When the silence had returned, the snake had disappeared and Potter was staring at Draco with immense guilt and something else entirely, Draco felt how close he was to breaking. He swirled around, marching away. The first niche he found, hidden behind a man-sized portrait, he hid in and closed the portrait behind him.  
  
The first tear trickled down his cheek.  
  
Draco Malfoy cried here, for the first time since his trials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	22. The Return of the Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRACO IS BACCCCCCCK. I watched A Very Potter Musical last weekend and now I can't pronounce Draco in any other way than the AVPM Lucius way. Ughh AVPM and the Sequel are soooooooo good!
> 
> If you haven't seen it yet, GO WATCH IT, and if you already have, GO WATCH IT. Man, they're good.
> 
> Anyways, Draco is back. It's a short chapter and I'm slightly late, but I hope you can forgive me for that. Please? I also hope I made it up to you for the last chapter. More fluff is to come, I promise!

“What were you _thinking_?”

The door of Potter’s apartment slammed open and a raging Pansy stormed in. It was Thursday evening, a few days after the duel between Potter and Draco. _The Daily Prophet_ hadn’t gotten wind of it, which was why Pansy had only found out about it when Scorpius had sent her an owl, asking her whether his papa was hiding at her place.

Potter turned around at the sound of his door opening and stared at Pansy.  
“Hi,” he said uncertainly.

Pansy smiled sweetly. “Good evening, Harry. How are you? _What on Earth were you thinking,_ Potter? You Conjured _Nagini_. What the bloody hell?” she screeched.

Potter blanched and sat down. “Listen, Pansy, I –“  
“No, I won’t _listen_. I got a letter from Scorpius, because he hadn’t seen Draco since Monday! After your little duel, Draco sent a Patronus to Cassie to say that he was taking a break for a few days and that he would be back before the NEWT classes on Friday. _Where is he_?”

“He isn’t with you or Blaise? Not at the Manor?”  
“No, he isn’t. Nor at the Lodge. He is nowhere to be found. But the more important issue is: _what got into your head_?”

Sitting down, Potter shook his head. “I don’t know. I was angry and upset because of the article. I didn’t mean to Conjure Nagini, at the moment I cast the spell, I thought ‘shit no, please don’t be Nagini, it shouldn’t be.’ That article made me so angry!”

Pansy huffed. “And you think it didn’t upset Draco? That isn’t a valid excuse, Harry!”  
“I got so many letters that morning, all of them were insulting me and questioning my sanity. I was so angry because of them, and I took it out on Malfoy. I’m sorry.”

With a groan, Pansy sank down on the sofa. “Are you sure you used to be an Auror? You would have been the lousiest Auror this country has ever known.”  
“What? What do you mean?” Potter asked confusedly.  
“Spells? Charms? Potions? They can all change your behaviour and feelings towards people. Anyone could have influenced the way you act specifically towards Draco. The only thing they would have needed was a bit of Draco’s DNA.”

Potter closed his eyes. “If I was under the influence of such a potion, would I be an asshole to everyone with his DNA?”  
“If there are enough similarities, like with his children, then yes. Why?” Pansy asked suspiciously.  
“I was talking to Cassie and said … rather unfriendly things about Malfoy at lunch that day. Merlin. One of those letters must have been meddled with.”  
  
“So you Conjured Nagini? You threw the war right in his face, in front of his children. You showed him that you still don’t see he is a good guy!”  
“Why would Malfoy care what I think?”  
“ _Because he’s in love with you_!”

It was silent for what felt like hours.

“He is?” Potter’s voice sounded thinly. Pansy fish-mouthed as she was trying to find the right words.  
“Not important,” she ended up saying. “Why did you cast _Serpensortia_?”  
“It’s an innocent enough spell. I didn’t even know you could cast anything else than simple rattlesnakes with it.”

Pansy sighed. “I guess I understand. You weren’t yourself, that much is clear. We need to research the potion, if you still have the letters. We can find out who was behind it, perhaps they can get a fine or something. Though we need to find Draco.”  
“Too bad there isn’t a Hufflepuff around to help us,” Potter joked weakly.

They smiled at each other in understanding. “I think he’s at Hogwarts,” Pansy said. “It’s the only place he could be.”  
“I don’t believe it. He hasn’t been at any meals, so he either must be starving or not at Hogwarts.”  
“Except that Draco has always had a relatively good relationship with the kitchen elves. They have probably taken care of him.”

“He isn’t in his apartment, he isn’t in the dungeons. Where else could he be? The Room of Requirement?” Potter mumbled disbelievingly. Pansy rolled her eyes.  
“You of all people must know that there are thousands of secret passage-ways here. Don’t you have some kind of magical thing with which you always stalked Draco?”

A wondered look took over Potter’s expression. “The Marauder’s Map. Of course. I’ll grab it right now.” He scurried into his bedroom and came back in two minutes with an old, scruffy piece of paper.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good. See, my father made it with his friends. Here, it shows every person on Hogwarts’s grounds. Let me see, where is Malfoy?”  
“I know how it works, Harry. Look somewhere around the dungeons, I think he would be there.”

Potter looked at her with a contemplative look on his face. “So he’s really in love with me?”  
Pansy grumbled. “Don’t tell anyone you got it from me.”  
“He told you then?”  
“No.”

A sigh. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I can believe it then. I realise you know him very well, but unless he told you so himself, I can’t rely on it,” Potter complained.  
“He told Neville, though.”

Surprised, Potter looked up from his hands. He seemed to search her face to see whether she was speaking the truth. Pansy just quirked an eyebrow and continued.  
“Do you remember that evening that Blaise and I were visiting Draco and you were there as well? Draco told us that Neville plied him with Veritaserum. Apparently, Neville asked him what his type was. When it turned out to be a very specific description, he forced Draco to think about what it meant. Then, you and Draco played a Seeker’s game, if I understand correctly?”

Potter nodded.

“You hugged him and the day after that, Draco spilled all of it to Neville. Cassie heard it too, since she was hiding out in the greenhouses.”  
“And they told you?”  
“They told all of us.”

Potter’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. Who is ‘all of us’?”  
With a chuckle, Pansy looked away from the map. “Neville, Blaise and me.”

Before Potter could sigh in relief, she grinned wickedly and said, “Scorp, ‘Quila, Cass, Phi.”

Potter relaxed a bit, since he could have expected those children to know, but Pansy didn’t stop. “James, Albus, Lily.”

Potter’s neck clicked as he whipped his head around so quickly, Pansy was surprised it didn’t break, but she finished the string of names. “Dominique, Louis, Roxane, Molly, Lucy, Rose, Hugo.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Potter mumbled when she was done. “So I haven’t been imagining things?”  
“That depends on what you are talking about,” Pansy answered with an elegant twirl of her wand, seeming immensely pleased with herself.   
“They’ve been talking about him insistently. Telling me about his mannerisms, telling me all these stories where he helped them with something, or where he made a joke. They were trying to set us up.”

At Pansy’s smug smile, Potter groaned, but perked up again, almost invisibly. “But that means I haven’t been imagining the other things either. Right?”  
“I don’t know what kind of instances you are talking about.”  
“We flirted. And the way he sometimes kept looking at me when he thought I didn’t notice. Or how it felt like he leaned closer to me when he was laughing at something. Godric, he really does like me, doesn’t he?”

Pansy huffed out a fond laugh. “Yes, Harry, he really does. You are the embodiment of his ideal partner.”  
“And he took his distance from me because of Phi?” Potter realised suddenly. “Because he thought I would blame him for having Phi morphing into Voldemort. Right? He is afraid of the consequences of the war, and what it could do to his children.”

Pansy nodded encouragingly at him.

“And like you said, I flung the war in his face during the duel. Shit, I really need to find him.”  
“Yes, you do. Before you run off, though…” she trailed off, making sure to catch Potter’s gaze before she continued. “I said it before, and I am saying it now. You need to be all in or all out and you need to think very carefully what you are going to do. Draco doesn’t do things halfway.”

A reassuring smile graced Potter’s lips. “I made my decision a long time ago and I’ll stick with it.”  
“Good,” Pansy said. She stood up and moved to the door of Potter’s apartment. “Don’t give him mixed signals. He isn’t good with those.”  
“Wait, you’re not going with me to find Malfoy?”  
“I think you have got some things to work out between the two of you.”

With that, she left the room on her way to the Parkinson Estate. Potter grabbed the Marauder’s Map and scanned it to find Draco’s name, after which he ran to the corridor where Draco was supposed to be.  
  
Only, it was empty. Potter came to a halt in front of a large, man-sized portrait of a Scottish laird in hunting plaid, posing with his early twentieth century gun and a dead deer behind him. Potter double-checked the Map. Draco’s name was pacing up and down the very hallway Potter was standing in.

He used his Auror training to find any sound, any movement that could have been from an Animagus, in case Draco had mastered that skill, but Potter heard nothing but his own breathing and beating heart.

“Excuse me, sir?” he asked the Scottish hunter in the portrait. “Have you seen Draco Malfoy somewhere around?”  
“Ah, Mr. Potter. No, no I have not seen any Malloys here. I’m not sure I’m familiar with that name.”  
“It’s just – he’s supposed to be in this hallway. Are you sure the name Draco Malfoy doesn’t ring a bell?”

The hunter shook his head again. “I’m sorry, I misheard the name. Still, I don’t think there have ever been any Milfoys walking this castle.”  
“Blond hair, grey eyes, tall, slender figure? Nothing at all?” Potter asked exasperatedly. His despair vanished when a look of recognition overtook the hunter’s face.

“Do you mean _Malfoy_ by any chance? Apologies, son, my hearing is not what it used to be. Ah yes, I have seen the Malfoy lad. Just to be clear, you do mean the man of your age, yes? Not one of his children?”

At Potter’s enthusiastic confirmation, the hunter smiled broadly. “I saw him last Monday. He ran out of the Great Hall and hid in the niche behind this portrait.”

Potter frowned. “There is niche behind you?”  
“Well, it’s more like a hidden hallway parallel to the one you are in and about as long. Yes, the older Malfoy opened it and slipped right in. He seemed rather upset.”  
“Can you open it for me?” Potter asked eagerly. “Please, I really need to talk to Malfoy.”  
“Ah, but my dear lad, I don’t know how to open it. It’s the wall that swings open, not me.”  
“Not a password or a key or something?”

The hunter shrugged apologetically. “Nothing. I don’t know how they do it.”  
“Is it okay if I get you down from your hook for a second, so I can see the wall behind you?” Potter begged. It resulted in another shrug.  
“As long as I don’t fall out of my portrait, I’m fine. That would be an awful experience, wouldn’t it? Now, gently place me on the other wall, so I can see what you are doing. I wouldn’t want you to break my spot. Very well. That looks like a solid wall though. I fear you won’t be able to get in. No, that spell doesn’t work. Ouch, that one doesn’t either. Now, now, don’t get frustrated, that was far too violent a try for a gentle charm like that.”

Potter turned around with a sigh. “Can you please stop talking? I’m trying to concentrate.”  
“Well, excuse me. I just don’t think you will be able to open it. Perhaps it only opens for a select few.”

Rolling his eyes, Potter did the last thing he could think of. Wandlessly and wordlessly, he cast an Alohomora on the entire wall. At a slow whooshing sound, Potter turned to look at the wall. It had opened to reveal a long hallway, only illuminated by torches. It looked like the dungeons, but Draco wasn’t there.

Potter cursed feelingly. Checking his map, he saw that Draco’s name wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. The hunter in the portrait tittered about the magnificence of the door and asked every few sentences whether Potter had found the Malfoy lad already.

“Shit, Malfoy, where _are_ you?” Potter exclaimed in the echoing hallway. He hesitated whether he should walk down the corridor and see where it led, but eventually decided against it. The Marauder’s Map did not show this hallway at all, and he wasn’t sure of finding his way back if there turned out to be many twists and turns. But, seeing as Draco most certainly knew how to find it and had apparently lived here for the past couple of days, Potter Accio’ed parchment and a quill and scribbled a quick note.

“Malfoy –“ the note read. “If you see this, please know I’m very sorry about Monday. Pansy and I found out that one of the letters I had received was probably adapted so I would have a strong dislike against you and your family. Your children are asking for you, and frankly, mine are too. Hopefully, you’ll be back soon - HP.”

He cast a strong Sticking Charm at the note and strode out to the common hallway, replacing the portrait on his way out.

Potter didn’t know that Draco had fled the hidden corridor when he had heard the bangs of magic against the door. He returned quickly, when Potter’s voice had disappeared and the wall clanked shut. Upon finding the note, Draco sighed. Perhaps he really should reappear. His children must be terribly worried, if Pansy had come to Hogwarts, probably at his children’s call.

The next morning, when breakfast had already started and no one expected Draco to show up, he opened the doors to the Great Hall and glided in. He wore one of his best robes, dark orange, like the colour of a rising sun, that fit so perfectly, he couldn’t gain or lose a kilogram without undoing the line of these clothes. He even wore his new shoes, which had a slight heel made of wood and clicked with every step he took.

Draco didn’t walk through the middle of the Hall, but instead chose to pass between the wall and the Slytherin table, where Scorp, Cassie, Phi and Albus were seated.

He treasured the blinding smile Cassiopeia sent his way and the loud “papa!” Ophiuchus exclaimed. Albus fidgeted with his shirt when he saw Draco. He was visibly nervous on how to act towards Draco, and how Draco would act towards him.

Passing by Scorpius and Cassie, Draco lightly placed his hand on Albus’s shoulder and squeezed before letting go and moving on. Having taken his seat –next to Potter, of course– he saw Albus questioning Scorpius confusedly.

His children must have understood Draco’s meaning.

“Scorp, I’m sorry,” Albus whispered.  
“What for?” Scorpius laughed. “For papa greeting you like that, and not me?”  
“Yes?”  
“Oh, Albus, you are still so innocent,” Cassie giggled.

Scorpius grinned. “Exactly. Don’t you know what it means that he put his hand on your shoulder?”  
At Albus worried look, his grin grew wider.

“If he would greet me or Phi or Cassie like that, he would only say that he’s doing fine. Which we already know, because he’s wearing orange. Orange is a ‘determined and stubborn’ colour.”  
“So?” Albus asked.  
“So,” Cassie provided. “If he greets _you_ like this, he says three things. One, he’s doing fine, don’t worry about him.”  
“Two.” Scorpius made sure to catch Albus gaze before continuing. “He does not and will never blame you for anything that your dad has done. Everything is perfectly all right. He still approves of our friendship and likes you for who you are. You are still the same person for him.”  
“And three,” Phi cut in chuckling. “Three, he still very much fancies Harry. It’ll only take a while for papa to forgive him, but that’ll be all right.”

Albus shook his head disbelievingly. “Your papa can’t have said that last bit. He wouldn’t. Would he?”

The Malfoys smiled.

“Oh yes. He most certainly did. He wouldn’t have greeted you as _his own flesh and blood_ otherwise. He would have smiled at you, or nodded in greeting. But not this. Albus, we are becoming brothers!” Scorpius stated confidently, hugging Albus close and sending a private smile at Aquila.

She, at her turn, looked at Draco and gave him two thumbs-up and waggling eyebrows.

Draco smirked. His plan worked then. His children really were brilliant in reading his meaning. He should have a fun family night soon, to thank them for always being there for him.

Perhaps the Potter kids should be invited then as well, since they had played a significant role in helping his children.

Hmm. Draco had to look into what he could do with all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, and even if you didn't, leave me some comments! Comments get Draco and Harry get together faster! And it makes me feel good, so yeah, leave comments!
> 
> If you've got some time to spare, follow me on the Tumble door: i-am-and-proud. Drarry blog with an occasional poem of my own writing. I'm always open to messages and will answer as soon as I can.
> 
> Bya!


	23. Reconciliation and heavy conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title rhymes, do you guys see that? How creative I am.
> 
> Anyways, a new chapter, a day late, but I hope you can forgive me. A few heavy conversations between them, but eventually, they make out - I mean up. They make up. No making out. Sorry.
> 
> Keep telling me what you think of the story, because it boosts my self-confidence and I'm entering in a writing competition this week, where I can win giftcards for a bookstore, so I really want to win this shit (any ideas, tips, messages of encouragement are more than welcome, because I don't think I have a chance of winning).

Draco’s first class of that day was supposed to begin in about thirty seconds; third year Slytherins and Ravenclaws. While Aquila was obediently sitting next to Matias, waiting for Draco to speak up, two particular Slytherins were nowhere to be seen.

Draco sighed. He should just begin already.

“Good morn-“ he started, but was cut off by the two missing boys skipping into the classroom with linked arms. A loud ‘Good morning, Professor Malfoy,’ joined their entrance and they laughed boisterously when they noticed they were the last ones to arrive.

“You’re late,” Draco remarked sharply. Albus had the modesty to look chastised, while Scorpius just grinned.

“You know, I actually have a rather good reason for that. You see, my papa was gone for four whole days and I was quite worried, causing my homework to be of a very low quality. Today, he appeared again and I decided to edit some of the more important assignments so they were up to standard. I almost lost track of time!” he explained cheerily.

Draco raised an amused eyebrow, but only slightly, so not many of his students would notice.  
“Ten points from Slytherin,” he said dryly. Both friends sat down in their chairs and grinned sheepishly at each other.

“So, in case you hadn’t deducted it from Scorpius’s lovely story, just now,” Draco drawled sarcastically. “I have not been present for the last couple of days. I am sure you all know what happened on Monday, so I will not reiterate. However, it did compel me to take a few days off. If you have any questions or remarks, please place them at the end of this lesson. I would like to begin with –“  
“And what if we have insults?” a voice called from the back of the class.

That was the second time Draco had been interrupted this class, and within five minutes.

“If you have insults, you come to me!” Scorpius snarled aggressively, twisting around to sweep his gaze over the classroom. Draco tutted softly so he would sat back down, and then cast his own glance towards the corner where the voice had come from.

“If you have insults, you can come to me at the end of this class, as well. Right now, you are disrupting my class. And how very brave of you, to say something like that anonymously, Lazarus,” Draco said dismissively. Lazarus snorted.  
“But what if people would like to know what I have to say?” he persisted. “Are you going to detract points for that as well?”

Aquila turned around to her Housemate. “I doubt anyone wants to know what you have to say,” she stated.  
“I think they do want to know, since a Death Eater became professor at Hogwarts in the same year as Harry Potter did. I find it suspicious.”  
“So you’re the reliable source of that _Prophet_ journalist, are you? How pathetic,” Albus shot back.

Draco cleared his throat. “Quiet down. Lazarus, I would like you to remain silent. Five points from Ravenclaw for disrupting class. If you are set on insulting me, please don’t hesitate to do so. After class. This lesson, we will talk about –“

“That is unfair! I have not done anything to have points detracted. This is foul play, Professor. I will complain about this,” Lazarus exclaimed.

With a sigh, Draco scribbled something on a scrap of paper. Waving his wand, the paper folded itself into an origami bird and flew out of the classroom.

“That was a note to Head Mistress McGonagall, saying that you are on your way to her office and with a short summary of why I sent you out. Leave my classroom, now.”

Lazarus stared at him with an open mouth, eyes wide open with disbelief. Draco reiterated his order for him to leave, after which he packed up his back and scuffled out. A few Ravenclaws grinned behind their hands. Scorpius had a dark look in his eyes and sent a glare Draco’s way. Draco ignored him with a pointed tilt of his chin.

“Now that all turmoil is settled, I would like to begin. Who can tell me the effect of asphodel on emotional potions?”

Two hands shot into the air and a third was hesitantly lifted. Draco suppressed a smirk.

“Yes, Albus?” he inquired. Albus had been the third to lift his hand, the first two being the twins.

Albus smiled. “Well, asphodel is associated to death and the underworld, in Greek terms, but is related to lilies, which signify majesty and love. In an emotional potion, asphodel can make the intended emotion much more vicious, much more negative. For example, a love potion with asphodel will encourage feelings of jealousy in the drinker. If the potion is very strong, the drinker can murder someone who claims the attention of their love object.”

“Very good,” Draco praised. “Anyone who can give me some examples of emotional potions?”

When everyone murmured something about ‘love potions,’ Draco nodded. “Love potions are very common, but there are more. What are others?”  
“Hate potions,” someone offered.  
“Hate potions are just love potions with enough asphodel mixed through,” Scorpius countered. At Draco’s questioning eyebrow, he shrugged. “They usually are. After all, love and hate are divided by a very thin line only. Right?” Scorpius winked cheekily.

“If you say so. So we have love and hate, but surely, you must have more emotions than that?”

That got the students talking. Draco noted every emotional potion they came up with and elaborated some of the workings.

“Right,” he concluded. “And how does one make sure the emotion is focussed on the right person?”  
“DNA, isn’t it? Just like Polyjuice, you put a bit of someone’s DNA in there, like a lock of hair, and you fall in love with that DNA or start hating them,” a Ravenclaw called. Draco recognised her as a girl with whom Aquila had a longstanding rivalry, because they both wanted to be the best of their year. Aquila had assured Draco that it was all in good fun, though.

And so, the first classes passed by. Apart from Lazarus, Draco didn’t receive any trouble for his absence or the duel with Potter.

In the afternoon, Theresa arrived for their potioneering with a big smile on her face, telling Draco how happy she was that he had reappeared. Draco merely nodded before setting her on starting the potion.

“So I guess you haven’t heard the latest news on the SHS, have you?” Theresa asked excitedly. She didn’t wait for a response. “A new note has appeared last week. It said that the Slytherin is apparently more in love than he or she lets on. The snake was seen talking to the Gryffindor, and was blushing more than explainable by a mere crush. They are called ‘Idiot’ and ‘Stupid,’ in which the Gryffindor is ‘Stupid’. Grand, isn’t it?”

Draco huffed a smile. “Gryffindors are always stupid,” he answered absent-mindedly. Theresa, noticing his distraction, squinter her eyes at him.  
“What is it with you? What are you thinking off?”

It didn’t get a response.

“I know you fancy Professor Potter,” Theresa stated bluntly when it remained quiet. Draco almost blotted the parchment he was writing on, but managed to show no signs of his shock. Only when he was done writing, he looked up.

“Why would you think that?” he asked, seemingly careless. Theresa rolled her eyes.  
“Multiple reasons. For one, I find it rather interesting to know that you smell a certain cologne in your Amortentia. Secondly, Scorpius may have told me.”

Draco snorted. “Of course he has.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“That he has a major crush on you, Theresa,” Draco announced. “Ever since he found out you brewed those Healing potions for all Slytherins.”  


With an awkward smile, Theresa stirred the potion a few times before responding. “I know.”  
“You do know that if you hurt him, every prospect of you becoming a Potions Master will fly out the window, right?” Draco remarked lightly, with a threatening undertone.

Theresa nodded like she hadn’t expected anything else. She probably hadn’t.  
“I won’t hurt him, knowingly. If only because you would kill me if I would.”  
“Good. He has no expectations for you, so you don’t have to worry. But I just wanted to make it clear,” Draco smiled, earning a chuckle from Theresa.

“Back to you, though,” she said smoothly. “Is a relationship between the two of you near?”

Draco ignored the annoying twist in his gut and plastered a smirk on his face. “Perhaps you should keep stirring the potion.”

At dinner time, Scorpius rushed into the Great Hall and shoved himself next to Albus. “Albus, mate, listen!” he exclaimed. “It’s almost Christmas, right?”

Albus rolled his eyes. “It’s mid-November. Six more week until Christmas. I would hardly call it ‘almost’.”  
“Oh don’t be so nit-picky. The castle isn’t Christmassy enough. Perhaps we ought to do something about it.”  
“Like what? Start singing Christmas carols and prance around in red and green?”

Scorpius laughed. “Of course not, Albie. I was only thinking we should start decorating. You know, some candles, _guirlandes_ –“

“ _Guirlandes_ , honestly?” Albus snickered.  
“What? I don’t know the English word, okay?” Scorpius defended himself hotly.  
“It’s literally garlands. How do you not know that word?”  
“We very often celebrate Christmas in France, or not at all. Sorry for not knowing the English names of seasonal decoration I only see once a year when I’m in France,” he sassed dryly. “Anyways, I was thinking candles, _guirlandes_ , some mistletoe here and there.”  


Albus looked at him with squinted eyes and shook his head.  
“No, Scorpius. No.”  
“Nothing bad, just mistletoe. It’s traditional Christmas decoration, isn’t it?”  
“Just no. You can’t do that to them.”  
“I’m sure I don’t know who you are talking about,” Scorpius sniffed with his chin up in the air and a light smile around his lips.

Albus laughed. “So what was your idea, then?”  
“Well,” Scorpius started enthusiastically, throwing an arm around Albus’s shoulders. “Let’s just hang mistletoe everywhere. Papa has admitted to liking Harry, to Neville and to all of us. I’m sure he can subtly manipulate Harry under a mistletoe and give him a quick peck on the cheek.”  
“But we don’t want them to have a quick peck. They ought to snog, obviously.”

A laugh burst from Scorpius.  
“I thought you were against the mistletoe?”  
Albus shrugged. “If we’re going to do it, we should do it right.”  
“So you agree that we use Christmas to get them closer together?”

At Albus’s nod, Scorpius whooped and signed Phi to come over, so he could get the message across to Aquila, the Potters and the Weasleys.

During dinner, Draco was able to ignore Potter. It wasn’t because Draco was angry; he wasn’t, not really. He just didn’t know what to do. To be quite honest, he had usurped all his courage by coming back this morning and greeting Albus the way he had. He was exhausted and terrified of all reactions, not only of his children and Potter, but also of the Hogwarts students and Potter’s friends.

Hence, dinner was quiet at the High Table, mostly because Draco and Potter were sending off such awkward vibes that all other teachers did not dare talking to either one of them.

An owl flew in, heading straight towards Draco. He recognised it as one of the Manor’s owls, his mother’s favourite, to be precise. The owl landed neatly on the back of his chair and hooted once. Absently stroking it over its head, Draco took the message. He read it, smiled faintly and folded it, shooing the bird away.

_Draco darling,_

_Please excuse us for answering so late, but we only received Monday’s Prophet today, since we are in France, taking care of the property upgrade we ordered. I feel like you have been holding out on me, your own mother, by not telling me you were in a relationship with him. If you are, you will be scolded for neglecting to tell us, next time you visit. If you are not in a relationship, please tell me and we will try to find out how to avenge yourself on the newspaper._

_If, by chance, you happen to be in no relationship of romantic kind with Mr. Potter, but do wish to enter such a thing, you will let me know by answering what chocolate flavour Mr. Potter prefers, so that I may take it into account when I send a box your way._

_Love &c,_  
Your Mother,  
Narcissa Black Malfoy

“Say, Potter, what is your favourite chocolate flavour?” Draco then asked nonchalantly.

It took Potter a while before he understood, but when he did, he tried to cover up his smile before answering. He thought Draco might not appreciate seeing his smug grin. He was sure that the letter had been from Draco’s mother, asking for his favourite chocolate.

Potter remembered the evening with Pansy and Blaise, where Pansy told him that Draco and Draco’s mother were always trying to be considerate when someone was worth their time and attention. He grinned again and didn’t bother to conceal it from Draco.

“Milk hazelnut, mostly. And there is one brand that has caramel-sea salt, and it’s incredible. What’s yours?” he asked. Draco stared at him, clenching his right hand and concealing it with his left. Potter racked his brain what it meant. Phi had said that when he fumbled with his hands, it was something that Draco had to reign in. Oh right, it was being unsettled. Draco felt unsettled.

When Potter just kept smiling, Draco released his hands from their hold and brought his hand up to his earlobe, trailing it. Potter’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was affection, wasn’t it? Of course, Potter was told by Pansy that Draco was in love with him, but right now was the first actual _proof_ that Potter had.

Draco nodded. “I like hazelnut as well. White is good, too. White hazelnut is heaven on Earth,” he said, while slowly, subconsciously, letting his finger fall down to his chin and keeping it there, as if he was thinking.

Strong affection, Phi had called it. When he really, really likes you, he had said.

Potter felt slightly dizzy, knowing now for sure what he hadn’t acknowledged before. He remembered to nod in response to Draco’s favourite chocolate, but wasn’t able to process anything else.

Draco frowned at Potter, since he was acting a bit weird. Potter kept staring at Draco’s hand, which made him a bit self-conscious.

“Anything wrong?” he snapped when the tension became too much. Potter immediately straightened his back and turned to his plate.

“Nope, nothing at all. I was just lost in thought for a moment.”

And with that, they were back at awkwardly eating dinner.

After dinner, Draco sent Amber, his lovely owl, back to his mother. It only consisted of one sentence.

_Mother – his favourite chocolate flavour is milk hazelnut or perhaps caramel sea salt. We will talk soon._

Draco spent the rest of the evening with his children, to make up for the last couple of days. He cuddled Cassie extra hard, spent a long hour with Aquila to explain the ins and outs of the workings of a Patronus, played a long game of Wizard’s Chess with Scorpius, and read a special bed time story to Ophiuchus.

Somewhere around one o’clock, Draco was in bed and tried to sleep. His peaceful lying-with-closed-eyes was interrupted by a soft, almost inaudible knock on the door. Draco sighed, expecting Cassie.

He should stop expecting Cassie when it came to being awoken at night. This time, as well as many other times, it wasn’t his daughter. Of course it wasn’t.

“Potter,” Draco greeted, leaning against the door with folded arms.  
“Hi.”

Silence ensued. Wonderful.

“I’ve had a few nightmares, last couple of days, and I couldn’t come to you.”  
“And whose fault is that?”

Potter chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I really am, about that. I don’t know whether you’ve read that note I left in the secret hallway, but well, Pansy made me realise that one of the letters was probably meddled with. It isn’t an excuse, but it is an explanation.”

“I think it is an excuse, though,” Draco murmured. “Get in, you enormous arse.”  
“Only my arse or can the rest of me come in as well?”

Draco tried to bite back his smile, but couldn’t stop his light flush. “Preferably just your arse, but I guess it’s a package deal with the rest of you.”  
“What would you do with just my arse, though?” Potter asked innocently.

Swirling around, Draco ignored the heat in his cheeks and glared at him. He didn’t quite know what to say, but knew that he _had_ to say something to counter the growing smirk on Potter’s face.

“For your information, my _son_ is sleeping in the next room. My _son of nine years old_.”  
“You have a permanent Silencing Charm around the living room, so you can receive friends when Phi’s already sleeping,” Potter protested. “Besides, if that is your only objection, we can go somewhere else.”

Draco fish-gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth while his face grew redder. “That is wrong on so many levels,” he uttered eventually. Potter just barked a laugh and made his way to the sofa.  
“Do you want some Firewhiskey?”

Potter shrugged. “I could kill for a Muggle beer, but I suppose you don’t have that.”  
This made Draco laugh heartily. “Please, follow me,” he chuckled.

He walked towards the kitchenette where he opened a seemingly small cupboard. A paper with names of many wines, beers and other alcoholic beverages, Muggle as well as Wizarding, was placed on the shelf.

“Take your pick,” Draco said, offering the paper to Potter. “I have everything that’s on that list.”  
“Where?” Potter asked, dumbfounded. “I don’t see it anywhere.”  
“I placed a Serving-hatch Charm on that shelf. Anything that is ordered from the paper will be poured in a glass at the Lodge by the kitchen elf and placed on the serving shelf there. It will appear in this cupboard.”  
“And you’re not afraid that your children will order something?”  
“They can’t. There’s a Repelling Charm on it that is only effective on everyone under seventeen, and a Locking Charm on everyone that doesn’t have my explicit permission to order.”

Potter was impressed. “That’s cool. I would like a Guinness, if I may.”  
“Order it yourself, I already opened it for you. Could you order mine as well? Just say ‘Master Malfoy’s standard wine,’ please. I’m going to change in something less pyjama-y.”

Open-mouthed, Potter had to shake himself out of the shock and quickly ordered both drinks, after which he carried it to the living room, waiting for Draco to return. When he did, he wore a black pair of Muggle jeans, skin-tight but simple, and a woollen, black turtleneck.

After Potter had blinked a few times at Draco’s outfit, he looked away and asked, “When did you open it for me?”

Draco responded with a jerk, before sitting down carefully and grabbing his wine.  
“A few weeks back.”  
“Why? We weren’t on particularly good terms, a few weeks back.”  
“For this. Your nightmares. In case you would need a drink and I couldn’t get it for you.”

Potter stared hard at him. “And now the truth?”  
Sighing, Draco snuggled into the corner of the sofa he was sitting on for more comfort and took a sip of his wine.

“It’s open for all the people I care about. Friends, family above seventeen. I want you to feel welcome here. I thought it a good way to make that clear.”  
“It was. Is. Thank you.”

They both sipped from their drinks, trying to ignore the building tension between them. Potter was the one who broke the silence.

“Malfoy? Since I already ruined whatever weird sort of connection we have last Monday, can I ask you something that will only make it worse?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “Why would you want to make it worse? And for the record, you haven’t ruined anything last Monday. You’re already forgiven for that.”  
“Am I?” Potter asked uncertainly. Draco just shrugged.  
“My children have forgiven you, so I have as well. They have too much of an influence over me.”

A faint smile appeared on Potter’s face, but it vanished just as quickly.  
“Do you remember sixth year?” he murmured, biting his lip. At Draco’s nod, he continued. “The bathroom incident?”

Draco tensed. “Why are you bringing that up?”  
“Cassiopeia told me you had scars. She told me she was afraid of them.”  
“When did she tell you that? When did it come up in conversation?” Draco fired. He had stood up and was standing on the other side of the room, with his back turned to Potter. Potter recognised his too-relaxed-to-be-authentic posture as the hurt Phi had described.

“Monday. I told you about the potion in one of the letters, it had your DNA in it, and Pansy explained that my negative emotions were probably projected onto anything with your DNA, including your children, albeit less aggressive.”  
“And she mentioned them?”  
“Yes. I insulted you, and she defended you. She mentioned the scars then, yes. I’m sorry about those, you know. I really regret it.”

Draco had calmed down somewhat and turned back around, facing Potter. He took a slow sip while examining Potter with eyes that seemed to see every tiny little secret Potter ever had.

“Today is the day for apologies?” he then asked.  
“No,” Potter stated simply. “Today is the day for honesty.” He gulped down half of his beer to escape Draco’s scrutinising gaze.

“Very well. Why did you ask?” Draco relented at a certain point, where both had gotten uncomfortable with the silence during such a difficult conversation.  
“How did she know it was my fault? Did you tell her? I’m just curious, so I’m not judging,” Potter hastily added.

Draco sank down on one of the chairs opposite of Potter. He would have wanted to sit on the sofa, next to him, but he thought he wouldn’t be able to have this conversation when being so close to him. It would be easier if they sat across from each other, so they would have to look each other in the eye and face the facts.

When he spoke, his voice was deep, hesitant. He placed his wine on the coffee table in front of him and folded his hands on his lap, so cover the nervous twitching of his thumbs.

“Do you know what her nightmares are like?”  
“Vaguely,” Potter answered.  


Draco swallowed. “In her nightmares, she sees things she should not be able to see. Things that shouldn’t be possible for her to see. Things that happened many, many years ago and should only be remembered by people who were there at the time. Not her, not a twelve year old girl who has never seen any of those people in real life, who was never supposed to hear the cries and feel the adrenaline and fear as if she was there.”

Potter nodded to indicate he was listening, even though it didn’t seem that Draco was paying him any attention. He was staring in Potter’s eyes, intently, with a fire burning behind the veil he was trying to configure.

“She never dreamt of the ‘bathroom incident’, as you put it, but she did dream of my scars, bleeding and not closing properly. She dreamt that I was still bleeding, that my scars had still not healed and were bothering me. When she was ten, I told her an abridged version of what happened.”

How much pain and trouble hid behind such a wonderful and happy girl, Potter could not understand. He almost started to think that he should observe a few of his other students more sharply. Perhaps the happiest, seemingly most careless people were the ones that felt the most cutting pain.

“I told her how we, at the start of the war, when everything was the most dangerous, the most vicious, met in a bathroom and how we both made a mistake and tried to cast awful spells. I said you used a spell that you didn’t know the result off, and cut me open by accident. Then I skipped the bloody part, explained how Severus had healed me, but how he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent scarring. I stressed that I didn’t feel anything anymore, and that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I think she understood that the circumstances made your reaction excusable, but she also seemed to sense that I neglected to tell her the real effect of the spell. She never asked about it, though.”

When Draco appeared to be finished, Potter let out a soft breath. “I think she hasn’t forgiven me that, has she?” he dared to ask.

Draco shook his head, looking at the glass he had picked up again and emptied in a long swallow.

“And you? If you had to look at it indepent from your children’s opinions. Have you forgiven me?”

Draco’s piercing gaze returned to Potter and, while making sure that he had Potter’s full attention, he tilted his chin defiantly. “No.”

The hurt on Potter’s face was written so clearly that Draco almost wanted to take it back, or soften the blow he knew he had just delivered, but he refrained.

“Why not?”  
“I can’t.”  
“What do you mean, you can’t?”  
“I am physically unable to forgive you. It doesn’t sting as much as it used to, but I still…”

Potter clenched his fist tightly. Draco only responded by covering every emotion he felt with a solid Malfoy mask, one as unreadable as he hadn’t used with Potter since the very first day back at Hogwarts this year.

“Is there a way you will be able to forgive me sometime in the future?”  
“I don’t doubt it. Last couple of months have brought me closer to that decision that the twenty-something years before.”  
“Okay.”  
“Okay?”  
“I think, okay, yeah. If… if you think there I can be forgiven for it, I want to continue. Being your friend, I mean. If that’s fine with you.”

Draco caught Potter’s eye and let his mask slip away again. Questions, answers and agreements seemed to pass between them.

“I think that is all right with me. Now, have you finished your beer? I’m rather tired.”

Potter scrambled to get up and place his empty beer bottle in the kitchenette. “Yes, of course, I will go back to my own wing. I’m sorry for keeping you from your sleep tonight.”  
Draco chuckled and did a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s not like I sleep a lot at night. But will you be all right? You came here for your nightmares, after all.”

Potter hesitated before he answered, so Draco came up closer and straightened himself to an imposing stance.

“I will not have you lie to me, Potter. Today was a day for honesty, remember? Would you rather stay here, tonight?”

Potter still didn’t answer right away. Draco rolled his eyes at him, prompting Potter to quietly murmur ‘yes’ and looking at his feet. “I can sleep on the couch, it’s no problem at all,” he hastened to say.

“Nonsense. I assume you want to stay here because you want the presence of someone else near, since night is the time that ghosts wake up. If you hold on just a second, I will transfigure the sofa into a double bed and change into my pyjamas again. Make yourself comfortable,” he said while casting a few spells that turned the soft sofa into an even softer bed.

Potter saw that it was rather small for two grown men, but he wasn’t about to dispute it. He knew well enough that a sofa can’t be transfigured into a king-sized bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what to do, until Draco walked in, wearing a soft, blue pair of joggers and a t-shirt that appeared far too fancy to be a pyjama shirt.

“I usually sleep without t-shirt, but I thought that might make you uncomfortable, so I threw on whatever I found in my closet,” Draco admitted sheepishly at Potter’s unconscious staring. He felt like a teenager with a sleep-over guest again.

“If you sleep without shirt, that’s fine with me,” Potter assured him. “I’m already disrupting your night by coming here and asking to stay over, so I want you to be comfortable.”

Draco hummed and summoned two thick, soft blankets and a few pillows with enough squishiness to be perfect for a good night’s sleep. They crawled under the blankets, both lying on their back, staring at the ceiling and making sure they weren’t touching the other, after Draco had waved the lights off. It was distinctly awkward.

“So, with the risk of breaking the silence and making this whole encounter even weirder than it already is,” Draco said lightly. “You are the boss right now. To sleep comfortably, do you want me to face away from you? And be truthful with me, I want to help you.”

Potter squirmed a bit, shying away when his arms touched Draco’s.

“I’m going to sound stupid, but I’ll say it anyway,” he started. “I… Merlin, this is weird, but I actually… wouldn’t mind some… Godric, some physical contact? Like, that other night I stayed over because I had had one of the worst nightmares ever, and you held me tightly and we fell asleep like that? Yeah, that was exactly what I needed. Ehm, so that?” Potter rushed out.

Without saying anything, Draco turned on his side and threw an arm over Potter’s chest, watching him closely.

Apparently realising that Draco wasn’t going to laugh at him, but truly wanted to help, Potter turned on his side as well and shuffled an inch closer to Draco, so that they were spooning, only far away from each other.

“Perhaps this might be nice?” Draco whispered. He placed Potter’s head on one of his arms and curled the other around his stomach, pulling him a bit closer still. Potter released a breath.  
“Yeah. Sorry for –“  
“Don’t apologise.”  
“Okay. Thanks –“  
“Don’t thank me.”  
“Well, this is what I wanted. Just being close to someone. So I am going to thank you.”

Draco laughed softly. “We aren’t particularly close right now.”

Even though Draco hadn’t meant it as a challenge, Potter certainly took it that way and pushed himself flush against Draco’s chest. Draco responded with a chuckle. His legs were placed distinctly unnatural, right on top of each other, so he wriggled one of them between Potter’s and snuggled further under the blankets. A lazy wave of his hand showed an alarm clock set for eight thirty the next morning.

It didn’t take long before both had fallen asleep. They didn’t wake until the alarm went off, and didn’t notice Phi sneaking out of the bedroom in the middle of the night to take a quick picture with the camera he had gotten when he was seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to comment! Comments make these oblivious men realise their undying love for each other faster!
> 
> Also, don't hesitate to follow/contact/stalk me on Tumblr: i-am-and-proud. I looooooooove talking to people, so talk to me :D Yay, bye!


	24. Let it go, let it snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yay! Thank you all for your faith in me about the writing competition. We'll see whether I managed to do it sort of okay.
> 
> I received a few comments about mistakes in my story, so I just wanted to say that this is completely unbeta'ed, so there might be stupid typos or whatever. My apologies for those.
> 
> Uhm there was another thing I wanted to say... But I forgot. It had something to do with Drarry. Too bad.
> 
> Oh yeah I remember. So this chapter contains a shit load of fluff and a bit of angstiness, but fluffy angstiness, ya know? Anyways, hope you like it!

Draco woke up before Potter and before his alarm clock went off. In their sleep, Potter had turned around in Draco’s arms and was snuggling against Draco’s chest. Absentmindedly threading his hand through Potter’s hair, Draco wondered what his children would think of this. They would undoubtedly think it cute, or whatever adjective they could find, but Draco wasn’t sure how they would respond on him being in an actual relationship with Potter.

And he shouldn’t be thinking about this, because Potter probably didn’t like him that way. He wanted to be friends, he made that quite clear last night. A friendship, Draco could do. He was good at hiding his emotions.

While Draco was petting Potter, he curled closer to Draco and nuzzled his nose against Draco’s collarbone. Draco froze.

“Potter,” he whispered. “Potter, are you awake?”

Potter groaned and pushed himself closer. Draco, feeling entirely uncomfortable now, turned on his back to give himself a bit more space. The only reaction he got, was that Potter pressed his face into Draco’s neck and threw an arm over Draco’s chest.

As soon as Draco was able to relax, he had to admit it was quite enjoyable to be lying so close to someone else. It might also be because it was Potter, but Draco didn’t let himself dwell on that too much. He sighed when he realised that he was actually pondering how a relationship with Potter would be. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Only a week ago, he was being observed by a reporter in Hogsmeade, who then wrote a less than flattering article about the two of them.

Draco flew upright, jostling Potter, who just hummed and slept on. The reporter had said he had a source here at Hogwarts. He had said it was a reliable source. He had known that Potter came to Draco’s apartment.

Quickly jumping away, Draco dressed himself in black robes that made him look severe, and made himself a cup of tea to calm down. He looked at Potter. Even though his hair had gotten grey at his temples, he seemed extraordinarily young. It may be because of his fit body –Draco _stop_ \- but Potter could easily be estimated in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties.

Potter also looked incredibly vulnerable, how he was curled up in himself, with arms wrapped around his knees and a little frown between his brows. Almost like he was afraid –

It clicked with Draco then, that Potter was about to have a nightmare. He rushed towards the sofa-transfigured-bed and pulled Potter close, right before the latter started to thrash around and garble unintelligibly. Potter fisted his hand and thumped heavily against Draco’s chest, fighting to get free. Draco suspected that the only reason he was able to restrain Potter was because he was sleeping.

A particularly strong hit in Draco’s stomach made him double over, but it was the unexpectedness rather than anything else that made Draco huff loudly.

It was also the sudden movement that woke Potter, who appeared to freeze before he composed himself and smiled tiredly at Draco.

“Morning,” he rumbled. Draco arched an eyebrow.  
“Are you going to tell me what the nightmare was about, or do you need a cup of tea first?”

Potter grinned cheekily. “I’ll take the tea.”

With a roll of his eyes, Draco stood up to prepare Potter’s tea – the water in the kettle was still hot – and returned with a tea box from which Potter could choose his own flavour. Potter sipped slowly from his cup and relaxed against the pillows. Carelessly flicking his wand, Draco transfigured the bed back to the sofa it was, and made Potter fall over.

“So, spill,” Draco demanded calmly after Potter’s cup was almost empty. Potter grinned again, refusing to take the last sip and stating that his tea wasn’t finished yet. Draco just vanished the mug entirely.

“Okay,” Potter relented. “It wasn’t a special one. Just a regular one, actually.”  
“Those are the worst.”  
“Yes. It was – it wasn’t that bad really. It was a compilation of everyone who had gotten hurt of had died before or during the war. You know, the low points of those years.”

Draco nodded. “Everyone?”  
“Most of them, yeah. Fred’s death is always the worst to witness. I didn’t see him die, which only serves my brain to conjure the most awful possibilities, and in every dream, his death gets worse and worse. I know he died in an explosion, and sometimes I see him being blown backwards, hitting his head against a wall and crushing his skull. Other times, he gets consumed by the fire, and I hear his cries of pain.”

A shiver ran through Draco at the picture of a person being consumed by fire, but he managed to keep his composure.

“I know for a fact that he didn’t die that way, not by crushing his skull, and not by being burned to death, but my brain keeps making it up. And I see George’s grief so often, every time he says Fred’s name. It’s so painful to see all that, Malfoy.”

Realising he had closed his eyes, Draco pried them open and landed in Potter’s gaze. They were both trying to remain strong, and not show just how afraid they had been and still were.

Potter blinked a few times and rearranged his legs so they were tucked under him. “And you?” he asked. “What are your nightmares like? Do you still dream of the Fiendfyre? I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but do the deaths of –of Lupin, Dumbledore, Fred, Lavender or Snape mean anything to you?”

Draco flinched violently, not able to suppress it. When Potter started to apologise, he shook his head.  
“No, you ought to know. It’s your right to ask.” He swallowed heavily, wringing his hands together in a futile attempt to calm himself.

“The easiest question first. Yes, I dream of the Fiendfyre. Or rather, I see it again. I don’t sleep much, so I also don’t dream much. I don’t mind a nice hearth, but you will never see me around bigger fires. It’s why Greg started drinking, and that led to his gambling addiction. It isn’t a pretty sight, a human being burning to death.”

Draco’s hand inched towards the Dark Mark on his forearm and he couldn’t summon the energy to stop it. He knew that the moment his hand wrapped around the Mark, he would break down completely. He didn’t want Potter to see it. He wanted Potter to leave. But he couldn’t do anything to stop himself from telling the story, and he couldn’t bear to see Potter go, not now.

“It kills me to think that his last words were in order to impress or frighten you. It wasn’t something I could tell his parents, it wasn’t a cry for help, it wasn’t _human_. Cra– Vincent had turned into the emotionless robot Tom Riddle wanted all his Death Eaters to be. That’s the worst of it.

“And then what my dreams are like. As I said, I don’t sleep really, but at night, every shadow, every niche holds memories, ghosts, torture. Sometimes, I wonder whether Bellatrix may have been a good person, if the Black madness hadn’t taken hold of her. I think of all those people I saw in the Manor during the war; either because they actually supported the Pureblood beliefs, or because they’d rather follow Tom than the Light side, because of their fear. So many have been imprisoned while they hadn’t done anything. Most with a Dark Mark weren’t active, but have been tried because of the Mark only.

“And then I compare them with my father, who had so deliberately chosen the wrong side –twice! And he’s enjoying the Manor Library and our French townhouse, without having really felt guilty about it. He’s still my father, don’t get me wrong. I would still protect him with my life, if need be, but I can get so angry with what he’s pulled off. With the crimes he committed, he should at least be joining other Death Eaters in Azkaban.

“And when I think that, I feel guilty, I feel filthy, because he’s my _family_. I shouldn’t be thinking those things. I should be happy that I can still visit him, and talk to him, and play chess with him. I _am_ , I really am happy about those things, but it’s so incredibly unfair towards the others, towards those people who didn’t do anything wrong except for taking a stupid tattoo.”

Draco took a deep breath, not daring to look Potter in the eye. His hand slowly wrapped itself around his left wrist, around the Mark and he sagged, closing his eyes and letting his mouth speak without having his brain filter it.

“The third question… Whether those deaths do anything to me… You have no idea, do you…? Merlin, Severus was my mentor. I trusted him. He protected me when my parents couldn’t, because my father wasn’t in Tom’s good graces anymore. He made sure I didn’t do things even stupider than I have done. I made sure I didn’t fire that AK at the Astronomy Tower. I know it was arranged, that Severus would do it, but it helped me immensely.

“Severus gave me the strength to not give you away, in the Manor. Severus gave me the strength to practice my Occlumency so Tom couldn’t look into my brain. Severus gave me the strength to keep my head high, my back straight when Tom lived in the Manor and threatened my parents. Severus saved me from dying. His death took away the one father figure who didn’t fall for ambition without regrets, the father figure who taught me that it was all right to show weakness, every once in a while.

“Lupin was the best professor I ever had. Severus was kind, but never a good professor. Lupin taught me so many things I needed in seventh year. He was a good man and should never have died. He shouldn’t even have had to live with his condition, all those years, without his friends. He was too good for this world.

“I didn’t know Lavender Brown that well, but I suppose you named her as a symbol of all our schoolmates who died. I feel responsible for all of them, because _I_ let the Death Eater in, _I_ was the one student who was close enough to Tom to know so many of his secrets. I could have helped you, in the same way Severus did. I could have used his presence in my house to my, your, benefit, and I didn’t. I could have saved many of our classmates, if only I made a _few_ good decisions in my life. But I didn’t.”

Draco cleared his throat, trying to suppress the tears threatening to spill.

“And Fred,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I never wanted any of that, I never wanted anyone like that to die. I may have disliked the Weasley family, but I didn’t want them to die. I didn’t want Arthur to die when Tom attacked him, and I didn’t want Fred to die. I cried when I heard it. Fred and George were those kind of beacons in dark times, like with Umbridge. They managed to make everyone smile, they were able to make life just that bit better with their jokes and pranks. I am so proud of George to continue his shop, and I am so glad that Ron has decided to help him, but Fred’s absence always hurts to think of, when I walk into that shop. It’s why I don’t come there very often. Can you ever forgive me, Potter? For the things I’ve done, or haven’t done?”

There was no answer for a while. The silence stretched so long, that Draco opened his eyes to see Potter crying quietly, gazing at Draco with an unreadable look on his face.

“If I hadn’t forgiven you already, I would do so after that speech of yours,” Potter said with a choked voice. “I thought you recognised me in the Manor, but I wasn’t sure. Why didn’t you hand me in?”

Draco shrugged. “I had my reasons.”  
“And one of them was Snape?”  
“Yes.”

Potter laughed weakly through his tears. “I won’t ask further, if you don’t want me to know.”  
“Good.”

It was silent again. When Draco went to stand up and get some more tea, Potter moved with him and touched his wrist lightly.  
“Can I get a hug?” he whispered.

Laughing, Draco shook his head. “You hesitate to hug me when we’ve just slept quite comfortably together?” He moved closer to wrap Potter in his arms, who clung tight to Draco’s shoulders.

They remained that way for a while, until they both spoke in unison.  
“Are you hungry?” “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Can I borrow your robes again?” Potter asked. “You said I shouldn’t leave your apartment in my pyjamas, ever. And I didn’t think to bring my own robes.”  
“You still have my Bordeaux robes, Potter. I am not gifting you with my entire wardrobe.”  
“Har har, I’m not asking for that. You’ll get your robes back, I promise. Just simple black ones?”  
“I don’t do _simple_.”  
“Then the most regular robes you have. I don’t need Sprout fawning over me again, because I’m wearing something fancy.”

Draco laughed and walked to the bedroom. He moved silently, to not wake up his son, but Phi turned out to be absent. Draco frowned, but assumed Phi had gone to Scorpius or Cassie, since it was already eight o’clock.

Returning with black robes made of Vicuña wool, decorated near-imperceptibly with indigo blue flowers embroidered on it, Draco handed it to Potter and casually turned away to fix his hair in the mirror.

“Malfoy, I’m not wearing this.”

Draco smirked at the mirror and remained quiet.

“Malfoy. I recognise a good material when I see one. This isn’t merely good, it’s fantastic. With these decorations, it must have cost a fortune.”  
“All my robes cost a fortune. Just wear it.”  
“No.”  
“Yes.”  
“No.”  
“Brat.”  
“Git.”  
“You actually want to fight me on _borrowing_ you a nice pair of robes?”  
“Yes.”  
“Find your own then. You know how to find the bedroom.”

Potter hesitated, not knowing that Phi was gone already. Eventually, Draco heard the rustling of clothes behind him and knew that Potter was changing into the black robes. When they were both done, they left for the Great Hall. Draco sneaked a glance at Potter to see how the robes looked. They definitely were the right size.

The moment they entered the Great Hall, Draco was attacked by three of his children. Phi jumped on his back, Scorpius pulled on his arm and Cassie was running laps around him like a rabid dog.

“Papa, it’s snowing! It’s snowing, look!” Cassie exclaimed, pointing at the ceiling and the windows.  
“You know what that means, right, papa?” Aquila piped up next to Scorpius.  
“Snow fight!” Phi cried in Draco’s ear.

Draco smiled, trying to suppress his laughter. “All right, all right, settle down, you monsters. I can see it’s snowing, it’s very pretty. But we won’t have a snow fight today.”

Scorpius frowned at him, displaying that heavily disappointed look he uses to manipulate people. It’s a look Draco recognised from his father and himself, but somehow, Scorpius’s version is incredibly effective on him.

“It is tradition, papa,” Scorpius said slowly. “We always have a family snow fight at the first day of snow. We can’t just abandon traditions, can we?”  
“Listen, I know we always do that,” Draco explained in his most reasonable voice. He wasn’t unaware of Potter, who was still standing next to him and listening to the conversation with an amused grin. “But around here, I am a professor and I need to act like it. Can you imagine Head Mistress McGonagall running and throwing snow balls at students?”

“Yes,” his children chorused with cheeky smirks. Draco rolled his eyes.  
“What did I do to deserve such demons?” he murmured. “Anyway, we are not doing a snow fight.”

Aquila rolled her eyes back at him. “So, you and Phi against me, Scorp and Cass? Sounds fair, no?”  
“No,” Draco returned.  
“I think it does. You are an adult, you count twice. Come on, let’s go,” she ordered.

Draco was saved by the appearance of Albus.

“Scorp! Scorpy! Scorro! Scorpius! It’s snowing!” he called from the other side of the Hall. “It’s snowing, come on, let’s go outside! Time for a snow fight!”

Draco was, apparently, _not_ saved by the appearance of Albus.

“Well then, it’s settled. Papa, Phi and Albus against Scorpius, Cassiopeia and me.”

Before Draco could say anything else, he was ushered out by five children. The moment he stepped out, Aquila hurtled a snow ball in his face. Albus threw Scorpius down and was rubbing snow in his face. Phi was still seated on Draco’s back and hindered Draco when he was trying to dodge the snow balls flying his way. At a certain point, Albus spotted Lily and James and included them in the fight. James tackled Aquila to stuff her hoodie with snow. Draco was the constant victim of Phi, Cassie and Lily, until Draco caught Lily alone and convinced her to choose his side.

“All right, Lily. You jump on my back and protect me from behind, while I run forward and kill them all. Understood?”

Lily giggled and climbed on his back when Draco crouched. When they looked towards the others, they had regrouped and had a pile of premade snow balls to throw at Draco and Lily.

“Three,” Draco started. He spotted Potter standing at the edge of the courtyard.  
“Two.” A group of students was watching his children, trying to find out who their victim would be.  
“One.” Potter and the students had spotted Draco with Lily on his back.  
“ _Go!”_

Draco started running, bending to pick up snow to throw at anyone who came close enough, not even seeing who he hit.

“We’re hit! We’re hit!” Lily cried on his back. Draco shook his head.  
“ _You’re_ hit, I’m still alive.”

He dodged James’s snow ball, but Aquila seemed to have charmed it to follow him. Draco swerved around, slaloming like he was trying to catch the Snitch while at the same time avoiding a Bludger. He had heard four of the six children calling that they were out, but the last two were still standing. Phi was incredibly good in dodging and Cassie was intelligent, fast and sharp enough to outplay Draco in Wizard’s Chess. Imagine her enthusiasm in a snow fight, where she could run and push and actively tackle everyone.

Draco managed to pick up Phi and smother him with snow, after which he twirled around to let Lily catch Cassie’s snow ball. Cassie cried out indignantly, charming a heap of snow to hit Draco, but he ducked away. James’s snow ball was still following him, but had crashed into the Cassie’s snow heap. One concern less.

Suddenly, Draco had an idea how to beat Cassie. He sneaked close.

“Lily, jump off my back and run towards Cassie to distract her. Go, now!”

Immediately, Lily jumped off and started jogging towards Cassie with a grin on her face. Cassie swirled to face her with a snow ball in her hand. When Draco was close enough to tackle Cassie to the ground, he felt someone’s magic dance around his feet to make him trip. With a loud _oomph_ , he dropped to the ground.

Cassie turned to tower over him with a triumphant smirk on her face. “Don’t mess with me, papa. I will beat you.”  
“You only beat me because I fell.”  
“Yes, why _did_ you fall? You never fall. Your wandless magic is good enough to catch yourself when you trip.”

Draco scowled at her. His scowl turned deeper when he heard a male voice. “Yes, _Potter_. Why did I fall? Any explanation?”

Potter grinned. “Perhaps you slipped. It is rather slippery around here.”

Draco scrambled up, as graceful as he could while still glaring at Potter. Cassie laughed heartily. “Oh Harry, I like your robes! Where did you get them from?” she asked sincerely.

Potter exchanged a look with Draco, who shrugged and pretended not to know what Cassie was talking about.

“I uhm, I borrowed them from your papa this morning,” Potter stammered hesitantly.  
“Papa? He doesn’t have any robes that look like that,” Cassie frowned. Draco decided to walk towards Albus and Scorpius and talk to them about – something. Potter sent Cassie a questioning glance.

“Perhaps these robes are new?”  
“No, they aren’t. He hasn’t gone out to buy new robes lately, and he always shows us when he has.”

Cassie let her gaze wander over Potter’s figure, after which a tiny smile appeared.  
“Besides, they aren’t his size. I doubt these robes were meant for papa, Harry.”

With a wink, she walked away, leaving Potter confusedly staring at Draco, who picked up Phi without thinking much of it, and setting him on his hip, while not stilling the conversation with Albus.

Potter didn’t want to think it, but –very fleetingly- it occurred to him that Draco was a very attractive man, and he was a wonderful papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make the children get creative with their match making techniques!!
> 
> Follow me on the Tumbling Door for Drarry stuffs: i-am-and-proud :D


	25. The Remainder of the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, I am sorry for being late (again), but I have my reasons.
> 
> See, as you may know, I entered this writing competition two weeks ago, and I got the result last Friday. I had already written more than half of this chapter, so I really thought I would be able to upload two chapters this weekend, but the result of that writing competition wasn't what you'd call, flattering. As in, the jury report was devastating. I was burned to the ground.
> 
> You can imagine that I wasn't really feeling like updating this story...
> 
> But I'm glad you guys hung in there and have (hopefully) been patient. It's a short chapter (because of above-named reason) and it may not be very good either (because of above-named reason). Still, I hope you like it.

When Albus left to talk to some others, Draco sent Phi on his way as well. Scorpius looked at Draco with a questioning gaze. Draco merely signed for his son to follow him to a quiet spot with a bench. When Scorpius sat down, Draco turned his back on him and looked at his shoes.

“Scorpius,” he said quietly. “I need to ask you something.”

Scorpius remained quiet, waiting for his papa to speak up.

“I know you have been trying to set me up with Potter. No, don’t argue. I assume you have the help of Albus and his siblings as well.”  
“Papa, we –“  
“I’m not angry. I just want to know. That Slytherin House Secret, the one about the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. Is that your doing?”

Scorpius’s mouth fell open, he tried to find words, but eventually settled with a sigh.

“No,” he answered shortly.  
“Are you sure?”  
“I am.”

Draco turned around to watch his son and observe his body language. He was tempted to believe Scorpius, and everything indicated that he was being honest. Strategically keeping silent, Draco was trying to manipulate Scorpius into saying something more.

It worked. Of course it did.

“Papa, I really don’t know who is doing this. I’m not even sure it is about you and Ha- Mr. Potter, since there has been an update while you were hiding out, and they speak of a blushing Slytherin, which is so far from what I would ever describe you as. I’ve been trying to find out, but whoever is doing this, is extremely good at being stealthy. Or at spell work.”

Nodding, Draco returned to his former position with his back towards Scorpius. He pushed his hands into his pockets, ignoring the amused chuckle of his son, who knew well enough that Draco didn’t often put his hands in his pockets.

“And the article?” Draco asked then. Immediately, Scorpius was stood in front of him with an angry look.  
“Do you actually think it was us, or are you desperately trying to find someone to blame?”

Draco sighed. He smoothed his hand over Scorpius’s shoulder and left it there.

“I don’t believe it was you,” he admitted quietly. “I wanted to be sure. I don’t know what to think anymore, I don’t understand who else it could have been, I don’t feel right about all of this. Something is off, and I can’t seem to find what it is. I’m just examining every possibility, however unreasonable.”  
“You’re afraid,” Scorpius observed. “Not of what the public might say, but of whatever is going on. Aren’t you?”

Draco pulled Scorpius close so they were both looking over the snowy hill ending in the Great Lake.

“I don’t know what I am, Scorp. I can’t say I have been here before.”  
“That’s all right. As long as you make it out alive. And do you remember what you always told me, when I didn’t know what to do?”

Scorpius smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Determination, willpower and endless charm. Right? It’ll work it, as long as you are determined to fix it, as long as you have the willpower to keep your head op, and as long you can charm your way in and out of trouble.”  
“You’re right.”

They stared over the white landscape which was steadily becoming whiter with every snowflake, cuddling close together. Draco smiled faintly. This was what quality time with Scorpius always entailed; silent pondering, letting the other think about whatever was going on in their lives, and the surety of the other’s presence and support.

When it had quieted behind them, since snow was falling fast now and it had gotten cold, Draco and Scorpius decided to move inside as well, following all other students who had hurried into the warm castle a while ago. Inside, Draco shrugged of his coat, and was surprised by the angry hoot of an owl, sitting on a perch, waiting for him.

Hooting, the owl pointed with its beak towards the package it had dropped on the ground below him. Draco recognised now that it was the Manor’s Elf Owl, used mostly when all other owls were gone or too tired. After opening the package, Draco saw it was a box of chocolates with a letter attached to it

_Draco_ , it read.

_Your mother tells me you are doing all right, which is pleasant to hear. My apologies for my lack of letters, but I have been busy with the Apothecary and the estates outside the Manor. You know Autumn is a particularly exhausting season._

_I hope your children are well. Has Ophiuchus found his way around the school yet? I assume you have been keeping him entertained during school days, since he has got no obligations thus far. In case you need rest or you want Ophiuchus to be somewhere else than at Hogwarts, you know he is always welcome to stay at the Manor._

_Is Scorpius still friends with the Potter boy? I suppose he is._

_I was ordered to ask you about your plans during Christmas. I believe we told you that your mother and I will be spending it in France with a few friends we have there. However, if you are set on celebrating Christmas and New Year’s Eve with us, we will cancel those plans in favour of you. Let us know as soon as you can, so we can arrange Portkeys and dinner._

_Your mother has send along a box of chocolates for you and your children. I happened to notice a new flavour. Milk hazelnut? Since when do you eat milk chocolate, son? And did my eyes deceive me, or has your mother sent you caramel sea salt? What kind of flavour is that? I hope none of your children have such – exotic tastes. I wouldn’t eat it, if I were you. It’s vile._

_Give Scorpius, Aquila, Cassiopeia and Ophiuchus my regards and your mother’s love._

_Sincerely,_  
_Lucius Abraxas Malfoy_  
 _Head of Malfoy Estate, Wiltshire_

Draco smiled at his father’s antics, the formal conclusion of the letter and his clear disapproval of Scorpius’s friendship with Albus, but also his less-than-proper rant about the chocolate flavour and his obvious love for his grandchildren.

The box of chocolates indeed contained a corner with milk hazelnut and caramel sea salt chocolates, in the shape of lions, a bolt of lightning and a bottle of Sleekeazy’s hair care products.

In other parts of the box were snakes, scorpions, eagles, quills, compasses, broomsticks, dogs, stars, ferrets and cauldrons, in the favourite flavours of every one of the Malfoys at Hogwarts. Draco shooed the owl to the Owlery, where it could warm up and eat something before Draco answered the letter, and went to his apartment.

At the same time, Scorpius had gathered a few of his siblings, together with Albus and a couple Weasleys. They were carrying bags and boxes full of Christmas decorations.

“All right, listen up. We have McGonagall’s green light, which is all we need. We want Christmas decorations _everywhere_. We want _guirlandes_ ” – Albus giggled, Scorpius glared at him – “red and green fluffy stuff hanging of the walls, we want mistletoe in the most cliché places in this castle. But most of all, we want a romantic and cosy atmosphere to take over Hogwarts.  At least, _I_ want that. So, let’s get to business!”

They walked through Hogwarts, crossing all hallways and stepping into most of the classrooms, giggling and using their most advanced spells to attach the decorations to the walls and doorways. When they entered the Great Hall, they still had an enjoyable amount of mistletoe and some tree decorations, since McGonagall had provided them with an enormous Christmas tree next to the High Table.

Roxane and Dominque worked together to attach a row of mistletoe all along the arched entry to the Great Hall, while Scorpius and Albus decorated the tables and chairs. Cassie was hanging up mistletoe on the back of Draco’s chair and hung red and green tinsels from the High Table.

“Say Scorp, is this enough mistletoe for your romantic expectations?”  
“If you aren’t satisfied with this level of cosiness, I’m not sure what else to do!” Aquila grinned.

Scorpius looked around and nodded. “This’ll do.”  
“I’m looking forward to the next morning they walk in together,” Phi said wickedly.

“Who walks in together?” a voice sounded behind them. Albus and Scorpius swirled around to face Potter.

“Two friends of ours,” Scorpius lied without missing a beat. “They are in love, but they don’t know it yet. Anyway, what do you think of our decorations?”  
Albus nodded. “We asked McGonagall for permission.”  
“Let me guess, she said no and you did it anyway?” Potter inquired laughingly.

The present Weasleys scoffed, Rose seemed almost angry at the assumption.

“Have you guys done all your homework? No essays or assignments left to do?” Potter asked sternly. His son shook his head dramatically.

“You of all people know that we are the most motivated students around here,” Roxane said with a snobbish tilt of her chin.  
“Yeah sure. I only know that you can’t seem to be quiet during my lessons,” Potter shot back jokingly. “Very well then. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, Albus, come here for a sec. Where are your siblings?”

Albus frowned. “I believe James is fixing up some homework for Tuesday’s Divinations. And Lily is – I have no idea where Lills is.”

“Lily is practicing her spells for Transfiguration,” Cassie piped up. At the surprised and questioning glances, she shrugged. “We talk sometimes.”

Potter smiled at her and turned back to Albus. “Tonight I’ll be having some drinks with the other professors. In case you need me.”  
“Will Mr. Malfoy be there as well?” Albus asked curiously. Potter knitted his brows for a second.  
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked him.”  
“Oh okay. I like your robes by the way. You look good,” Albus complimented.

Potter grinned. “I thought so, too,” he said while twirling to show them off from all angles. “I like the colour, it’s very subtle but fancy.”

Albus laughed and touched the material. “It’s so soft! What, is it wool from sheep that bathed in champagne and ate caviar?”

Phi snorted. “It’s Vicuña wool,” he said snottily.  
“What’s Vicuña?”  
“Vicuñas are relatives of the llama and the alpaca. Their wool is one of the most expensive materials in the world, because it is very fine and only produced in small amounts. One can only shave a vicuña every three years, and they have to be caught from the wild. Domesticated vicuñas don’t produce the same quality,” Scorpius interjected, when Phi appeared not to know what a vicuña was.

Albus and Potter nodded, impressed.

“Where did you even get Vicuña robes, dad?” Albus asked. “Like, if you don’t know what it is, why would you buy it? I suspect it costed more than the rest of your wardrobe combined.”  
“Is that a dig towards my clothing?” Potter faked indignantly. “You spend too much time with those Malfoys, Albie. Are you becoming blond as well?”

“I don’t think _all_ Malfoys are blond, Professor,” Aquila grinned. “At least, according to my definitions, I am a Malfoy and I am not blond.”  
“You’re not a _male_ Malfoy. That might make a difference.”  
“So am I not male, or am I not a Malfoy?” Ophiuchus questioned innocently, having morphed his hair to his jet-black version.

Potter groaned and threw up his hands.

“I can’t win from you, can I?” he exclaimed hopelessly. “I’ll just leave then!”

He practically ran from the Great Hall, throwing a grin over his shoulder to show that he meant it jokingly, leaving the children behind laughing.

That evening, the Malfoy children had assembled in Draco’s apartment, for a ‘lovely family night of joy and peace,’ as Draco called it. At that moment, the lovely family night consisted of falsely crying out the latest songs. When it had gotten later, Cassie planted herself on one of the chairs and smiled sweetly at Draco.

“Papa, will you sing my song?” she requested. “You haven’t sung my song in ages.”  
“But then you will also have to sing mine!” Phi demanded. Scorpius and Aquila had perked up at the mention of ‘their’ songs.

Draco had always loved to sing, as was evident by his way of cheering up his fellow Slytherins during the war. When his children were born, he always sang for them, to calm them down, get them to sleep or just because.

And all of his children had their favourite song, a song they could relate to, a song that meant a lot to them.

Draco smiled at Cassie. “Do you all want to hear your songs, or should I sing another song first?”

The four of them deliberated, seemingly communicating without words, until they chorused, “Another song first.”  
“We want _If you were the only girl in the world_. You know the one. Will you sing that song? Please, papa?”

At Cassie’s pleading, joined by Phi’s whining, Aquila’s winning smile and Scorpius’s manipulating look, Draco caved.

“All right, all right. Sit down,” Draco chuckled. He waited until his children had settled on the sofa and started to sing.

“ _Sometimes when I feel bad_  
_And things look blue_  
 _I wish a pal I had,_  
 _Say one like you_  
 _Someone within my heart to build a throne_  
 _Someone who’d never part, to call my own._ ”

A knock sounded, immediately after which the door opened. Draco didn’t turn around or stop his singing, because he already knew who it was.

“ _If Potter does not leave this second,  
I will hex him into next week,_ ” Draco continued in the same melody, throwing a smirk to Scorpius. Scorpius just raised an eyebrow in a poor imitation of Draco’s brow raise. A deep laugh rumbled from behind him.

“That’s not kind,” Potter remarked. “Especially since I was going to invite you for a couple of drinks with the other professors.”

With rolling eyes, Draco turned to face Potter.

“If your eyes were even remotely working, you would see that I already am entertained this evening.”  
“Yes, I saw. That doesn’t take away the fact that it’s unkind to hex me into next week.”  
“Oh yes, thank you for reminding me,” Draco said cheerily. He palmed his wand and stared challengingly at Potter. “Which hex do you prefer?”  
“I rather like the Jellylegs Jinx, if I may choose,” Potter answered.  
“But then you wouldn’t be able to walk away, now would you? Think of another one.”  
“True. How about… a good Bat-Bogey?”

Draco laughed. “It depends. If I would Bat-Bogey you into next week, wouldn’t you start comparing me with Ginny? As flattering as it is that you think me capable of becoming a professional Quidditch player, and see me as part of your adoptive family, I can’t say I would enjoy being compared to such a woman. Mostly because I don’t feel very feminine.”

Potter’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Luckily, Ginny doesn’t feel very feminine either. But fair is fair, I won’t compare you to her. She would win in almost every aspect.”  
“She would what? I strongly doubt it, Potter.”  
“Prove me wrong then. Come have a few drinks with the rest of us, Malfoy.”  
“There is nothing I would love more, but today, I’d like to spend my evening with my family.”

Potter let his gaze sweep over the four Malfoys, sitting grinningly on the sofa, as if he hadn’t noticed them before. “How about next week, then?” he negotiated. “You said there is nothing you would love more.”

Draco was about to refuse again, but a pointed cough behind him made him clench his jaw. Last time Potter had asked Draco to join, he had promised Aquila to go next time he was able.

“I would love to,” he ground out, quickly scowling over his shoulder at his oldest daughter, who only smirked back. Potter smiled brightly, which caused Draco to turn to his children again. He hated the smirks and grins of those devils, but it was better than bickering like an old married couple with Potter.

“Now, let’s continue the song. Where was I?” Draco asked, trying to change the subject.  
“No papa, we want another song. Can you sing the song you wrote yourself?” Ophiuchus asked, widening his bright green eyes hopefully, having morphed to the Potter look-alike.  
“Oh yes, I want that too!” Aquila called out.  
“But we want the complete song, with all the verses,” Cassie spoke.  
Scorpius stayed quiet, merely ticking up the corners of his mouth.

Kneeling down on the ground in front of Aquila, Draco caught her gaze and started singing, the song he started at the birth of the twin, and added to with Cassiopeia’s and Phi’s birth.

“ _I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes,_  
 _And felt I knew the truth._  
 _I thought I was the glorious one,_  
 _But then came my dark youth._

_I was proven wrong and tried,_   
_But nothing helped my case._   
_Who would ever trust me now,_   
_What was my true face?_

_Then somehow you appeared,_   
_And gave me back my smile._   
_You promised me a new fate_   
_Gave me something worthwhile_

_My lovely daughter, always strong_   
_Will smile and fight for her believes_   
_The brightest one I’ve ever met_   
_The Malfoy-Black that achieves._

_The son I never thought I’d get,_   
_The most powerful of all_   
_Fighting with determination_   
_Willpower and endless charm._

_Somehow you appeared,_   
_And gave me back my smile._   
_You promised a new fate_   
_Gave me something worthwhile._

_The third, my energy resource_   
_You tire me out, you’re lifting me up_   
_You’re brave and a gift to this world_   
_You are my little lion’s cub._

_My youngest, our Benjamin_   
_I know your worries, my mini-Potter_   
_But you deserve every good thing_   
_In this life, so don’t bother._

_Somehow you appeared,_  
 _And gave me back my smile._  
 _You promised a new fate_  
 _Gave me something worthwhile._ ”

When Draco ended, his children were wearing big grins, and Scorpius was –as he always did when Draco sang this song- blinking away tears and pretending he was fine.

After a few seconds, Cassie broke the silence. “You promised to sing the entire song, papa,” she scolded him softly. At Draco’s confused look, she raised an eyebrow. “You forgot the verse you added a few weeks ago. When you thought I was asleep?”  
“Love, I’m not going to sing that part,” Draco whispered as soon as he realised what Cassie was talking about.

He should learn not to argue with his children about these kind of things. They ganged up on him and got him to do whatever they pleased. He was weak, but Salazar, his children were manipulating Masterminds.

A minute later, Draco was still kneeling on the ground and humming the tunes to get the right note.

“ _I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes,_  
 _Coming here wasn’t one_  
 _I found what I had lost of myself_  
 _And recovered what I’ve done._ ”

“Now, it’s late. You should go to bed. Or at least to your dorms. We will talk tomorrow,” Draco smiled. He turned around to open the door, and stiffened immediately.

Potter hadn’t left.

Potter had heard the entire song.

“Potter, exactly _what_ are you doing here?” Draco demanded. “Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?”  
“I- I was leaving, I had opened the door already, but then you started singing and…” Potter stammered. “Well, it was beautiful.”  
“So you stayed?”  
“I stayed.”

Draco sighed exasperatedly, too tired to be angry (and not wanting to be angry). He was about to shoo the three oldest out of his apartment and Phi into the bedroom to change, when Scorpius spoke up.

“Papa, will we be celebrating Christmas in France again?”  
“No, I believe I told you,” Draco denied. “Your grandparents have other obligations. We will stay at home, if it’s all the same to you.”  
“Oh! You promised we would have a Muggle Christmas!” Aquila exclaimed.

Draco arched a brow. “Did I?”  
“Yes, you promised we would do a Muggle Christmas this year, because last year was so boring.”  
“But –“  
“No buts. Malfoys keep their promises, don’t they?”

With a sigh, Draco relented. He knew very well he had promised a Muggle Christmas, so it was only fair to stay true to it. He would have to read up on how to celebrate Muggle Christmas, though.

Nodding, he herded his children out, giving them all a kiss and a hug. Cassie clung to him for a second.

“Papa, that snake was the same as in my dreams,” she whispered shyly. “How can that be?”

Draco crouched in front of her. “That is a very long story, Cassiopeia. I don’t want to bother you with it now.”  
“Why not?”  
“You are too young for that,” he smiled sadly.  
“But I already see it in my dreams. It can’t be worse than what I dream. Can it?” she asked, looking scared and so desperate to hear her papa deny the truth of her dreams. Draco wanted to punch himself. He wanted to do anything to take away any and every memory or dream Cassie had from those times. He would rather face Tom Riddle again than seeing his daughter struggle with the things she sees.

“Cassie, love, listen to me. The snake was the same, because that snake has existed. But!” he said hastily, before Cassie could start to cry. “But, it never hurt me. I’m alive, aren’t I? I am healthy, and happy and I love you very much. I don’t want you to worry. All that matters is that we are here, you and I, and that the past is behind us. All right?”

Cassie nodded jerkily. She gave Draco another hug, after which she ran through the hallways to the twins that had already left for their dorms.

When Draco closed the door and saw Potter with a bottle of beer for himself and a glass of red wine for Draco, he didn’t even think of scolding Potter for staying and listening to the song. Draco could trust that Potter wouldn’t tattle, and if he would, Draco had some good stories to tell for himself.

They spent two hours just silently drinking their drinks, making soft small talk and sharing those tiny personal facts that one wouldn’t tell anyone during the day and when looking each other in the eye.

It was good.

Draco thought that this had been exactly what he needed today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as always, it's completely unbeta'ed.
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr: i-am-and-proud!
> 
> Comments get Draco and Harry flirting!!


	26. Christmas Preparations and Hogwarts Crushes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter! I need to write two more chapters before next Sunday (Christmas), so I'm stressing, but here you are! Enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments on the writing competition, it really does mean a lot to me.
> 
> WE REACHED 100.000 WORDS. LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND UNICORNS, WE REACHED 100.000 WORDS. I had never thought to come this far with a story. Thank you for hanging in there, and I hope you will stay with me till the end. Let's make it to 200.000!

A week passed, without disruptions, oddities or annoyances. The snow didn’t melt, Quidditch games were won mostly by Slytherin, and students were busy with Christmas presents for each other and family members. Draco was walking through Hogsmeade to find some small gifts for his children, like he gave them every year.

He was also trying to find out what a Muggle Christmas entailed, and he wasn’t succeeding. He needed a Christmas tree –but what made up a Christmas tree? He needed to bake cookies for Santa Claus –but who was Santa Claus and why would he visit them? Also, when could Draco expect him to arrive, and did that man only eat cookies, or would he want a full dinner? Draco was also supposed to fill his children’s socks –but should it be every single pair, or only their Christmas socks?

Of course Draco had celebrated Christmas with his parents, but their Christmas was a far cry from the Muggle version. They used to invite all their friends over for a roast, and exchanged presents when the guests had left.

Now, Draco knew from Hogwarts that the Christmas tree was decorated with bells and a tree topper, but he couldn’t for the life of him find out where he could buy such decorations. He had a small collection of tinsel, garlands and light at the Lodge, but that would never be enough for a complete and satisfying result.

He had never had to decorate his house, because they had always celebrated Christmas and New Year’s either at the Manor, or in France.

Draco grumbled. He walked into Scrivenshaft’s to buy Scorpius the forest green notebook and the matching quills he had been eyeing, when Draco’s gaze fell on a table in the far corner. Stalled out were beautiful, hand-made picture frames. They were made of wood, but the decorations on it were exquisite. Draco could see they had been manufactured from one piece, without magic.

Glancing at the price, he bit his lip. They would be lovely. He should buy them. But which ones would be best? And would it even be appreciated?

But he couldn’t give pictures frames without pictures, right? That would be odd. So would he be able to find the right images to give? Probably not. Unless…

Draco made a quick decision and chose five frames with care. Without letting himself doubt, he paid for the frames and Scorpius’s presents and strode onto the streets of Hogsmeade. He really needed to work hard in order to find the right pictures. He only had a month left, and it would be close to impossible, but he needed to try.

Turning on his heel, Draco Apparated to the front door of the Malfoy Manor, surprised when the door was opened immediately by a house-elf.

“Master Draco,” the elf greeted. He led the way to the Winter parlour, where Draco’s mother was reading.

His mother stood up upon seeing him. “Draco! What are you doing here?”

Draco kissed her on the cheek and smiled.

“Don’t get me wrong, you know I like seeing you. I just thought we wouldn’t see you until the New Year?”  
“You wouldn’t, but I need to use the library. Can I disturb your Saturday by digging through all our books?”

Narcissa laughed. “Naturally. Your father is occupying the library, but I think he won’t mind, as long as you don’t distract him.”

With a tentative touch to his mother’s arm, Draco moved to the door, but held still. He looked at the ground thoughtfully.

“Thank you for the chocolates, Mother,” he said softly. Narcissa caught his gaze and smiled faintly.  
“Were they appreciated?”  
“They were.”

A look of happiness crossed his mother’s face before she schooled it and turned back to her book. “We will talk about that another time, darling,” she said, not looking up.

Draco chuckled and shook his head while walking towards the library. There, he saw his father sitting in his chair by the fire. His father was too engrossed in his book to notice Draco coming in, so Draco remained quiet and moved towards the newspaper archive in one of the corners. Copies of _Daily Prophets_ , _Quibblers_ and smaller papers were stored here. Draco pondered what decennium he would start to look at, and decided to go for the seventies. After a few hours, he found the paper he had been looking for.

Taking it with him, he went back down to leave the Manor, but popped in with his mother.

“Mother…” he started hesitantly. “Since you are in the board of S.P.E.W., have you had any contact with the Minister?”

Narcissa looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“I have spoken him a few times. Why?”  
“I might need his help with something. But thank you –“  
“Draco, what are you up to?”

Draco hesitated whether he should tell his mother, but then shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, Mother. I just need to ask the Minister for something. I will see you when you and father come back from France.” He kissed her cheek in goodbye, and ignored Narcissa’s questioning sigh.

“Have a splendid time in France. We’ll write!” he called, leaving the Manor.

The moment he stepped into Hogwarts, Potter called his name in surprise. Draco pulled the Scrivenshaft’s bag a bit closer to himself and arched an eyebrow at Potter.

“Where’ve you been? James was looking for you,” Potter smiled, eyeing the bag curiously.  
“Hogsmeade. Christmas shopping. Why was he looking for me?”  
“Oh, something about flower language. You’ve been explaining him the traditional meanings of flowers, right?”

Draco nodded. “He was interested in the name Lily, among others.”  
“Yeah, I know. There’s a girl he likes, and her name means ‘lily’. Ironic, isn’t it?” Potter chuckled, a mix of amusement and sadness in his eyes.  
“Quite. But, you know, James actually means ‘the one who follows.’ So perhaps he is just the one who follows history, and will marry a Lily.”  
“I suppose. Anyway, are your Christmas preparations coming along?”

With a sigh, Draco slumped. “Not at all. You may have heard last week that my children want a Muggle Christmas.”  
“So?” Potter asked, confused.  
“I have no idea how to organise a Muggle Christmas, Potter! I mean, a tree? Baubles? How do I decorate my home? What do they expect for dinner? I only have a month to fix it, and I have no idea where to start.”

Potter laughed loudly. “You really are panicking about this, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I am sure it’ll be fine. But if you want, I can help you.”  
“Can you?” Draco breathed. “Yes, I would like that. If you don’t have anything else to do, we could sit down now? Let me just put away this bag.”  
“Sure, that’s okay. Yours or mine?”

After agreeing that they would meet at Potter’s rooms, Draco quickly put the Scrivenshaft’s bag away and grabbed pen and paper, so he could make notes from the things Potter told him.

Potter chuckled when he saw the eagerness with which Draco appeared at his door. He poured two glasses of water and sat down in one of the chairs. When Draco nodded at him to start talking, Potter rolled his eyes and started telling how Christmas came about and what it entailed now.

At the end of the story, Draco’s eyes were glazed with confusion, mouth slightly open in his effort to understand.

“Can you explain one more time what Santa Claus has to do with Christianity?”  
“Nothing. Santa Claus was made up by Coca Cola to boost sales during Christmas.”  
“And who is Coca Cola?”  
“Coca Cola is a brand of fizzy drinks.”  
“And how do the fizzy drinks feature in this Christmas tradition?”

Potter groaned. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain Christmas to someone who doesn’t know what it is?”  
“Well, it isn’t particularly easy to understand, either,” Draco snapped. He looked at his lap, having abandoned trying to make notes. “This is going to be disastrous. They will be so disappointed,” he sighed.

“I’m sure they won’t. They’ll appreciate the effort. Besides, it’s not like they know exactly what a Muggle Christmas looks like.”  
“No, but Albus was coming to visit on Boxing Day, and _he_ knows.”

Pensively biting his cuticles, Potter stared at the hopeless man sitting opposite him. “You know…” he mumbled. Draco’s head shot up.

“No, never mind. It wasn’t a good idea.”  
“Potter, tell me. Every idea is better than what I would do on my own.”  
“Well, it’s just – I thought you could, perhaps, I don’t know, you know, you could, if you wanted to, celebrate Christmas, well, you see, it sounds weird, I know, but you could celebrate Christmas with us?”

It was silent for a long moment, in which Potter wanted to take back what he had said, because this silence was the most awkward one he had had in a long while.

“Would you do that?” Draco asked then, slowly blinking at Potter as if trying to find out his sincerity. Which he probably was.  
“I would. I think the children would like it. Cassie and Lills are becoming friends, and I believe James has taken a shine to Phi. It would relieve you of a lot of stress, since I could just decorate everything.”

Draco’s face broke out in a wide smile. “Yes!” he exclaimed happily, and then, as an afterthought, in a much more composed tone, “That would be lovely.”  
“Great! You could come over on Christmas Eve, and leave on the morning after Christmas.”  
“We would be spending two night at your house, then. Are you sure that’s all right?”  
“Of course, of course! Perhaps it would also be nice for your children to see Grimmauld Place. After all, it is Black heritage, isn’t it?”  
“Yes,” Draco grinned. “Yes, it is. Thank you.”  
“Don’t mention it. So, are you ready to come out with the other professors for a few drinks tonight?”

Groaning, Draco sipped his water. “I believe I promised. Who usually go?”  
“Well, me, Neville, Mike Startle, you know the Flying instructor. Sometimes Sprout and Pomfrey join, but very rarely. Oh, and the Arithmancy professor, Colin Parnarush, and the new Divination teacher Wrilda Hellodorn.”  
“No Filch? Or McGonagall? Not even Flitwick? Poor company,” Draco joked.  
“I know, that’s why we need you. You are coming tonight, aren’t you?”  
“I suppose I am,” Draco assured him. “As long as I can put Phi to bed before.”

Around tea time, Draco was able to get his four children together, because they were all in the Great Hall, studying. When he told them they were going to celebrate Christmas at the Potter’s, all four of them responded with equal enthusiasm.

“Oh papa, I also wanted to ask… At the beginning of the year, you said you would arrange a dress for the ball for me, right? But when is that ball, because I thought it would be around Christmas,” Cassie complained.

Draco chuckled. “It’s going to be a Valentine’s Ball, instead of a Yule Ball. They weren’t able to organise it in such a short period. Besides, the Yule Ball bears some unpleasant memories.”

Aquila pulled a face. “Right, the Triwizard Tournament. So now they just do a Valentine’s Ball every four years?”  
“Exactly. So you don’t have to worry about that, yet. Let’s celebrate Christmas and New Year’s Eve, first, shall we?”  
“But you are still going to arrange a dress, right?” Cassie pushed.

Phi rolled his eyes at her and pulled Draco away, to the Gryffindor table to talk to some people he knew there. Draco spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with anyone who was willing to talk, which resulted in passionate, one-and-a-half-hour long discussion with Matias about how often one should polish one’s broom to achieve the highest results.

After Draco had put Phi to bed, he chose dark blue Muggle jeans that with a magenta dress shirt which he tucked in his trousers. He restyled his hair until Phi told him to ‘finally get his arse downstairs,’ where Potter was waiting for him to walk to Hogsmeade.

They met the other professors –the younger ones, not the ancient ones Draco had had as a student- at the Three Broomsticks. Neville raised an eyebrow when he saw them walk in together. A few weeks ago, this wouldn’t have been imaginable.

Draco caught his smug grin and elbowed him as a greeting. “Please don’t look so happy. You have done nothing,” he said casually.  
“Haven’t I? When would you have realised your little crush, if not for me?”  
“For your information,” Draco informed him snobbishly. “I already knew whatever you were trying to get me to realise.”  
“Sure. That’s why you were so shocked, and that’s why you tried to deny you fancied someone, even though you were dosed with Veritaserum.”  
“You still owe me because of that.”  
“Yeah? What do you want me to do?”

Draco squinted his eyes at Neville. “I’ll think of something. Eventually.”

Neville laughed, but didn’t pursue the subject, since Potter was returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand.

“I don’t know exactly what you usually drink as your ‘standard red wine’, but I thought a Merlot was okay. You can have my Firewhiskey, if you don’t want it,” Potter smiled, handing Draco his wine.  
“Merlot is fine, thank you. But I think you should give that Firewhiskey to Neville, he doesn’t have a drink yet.”

Potter smirked. “Nah, I don’t buy drinks for everyone. Neville can get his own.”

While Neville chuckled and threw a not-so-subtle wink at Draco, Draco worked hard to suppress his own smile.

“Oh, I feel honoured,” he said sarcastically.  
“You should. Don’t you realise that the Saviour of the Wizarding World is buying you drinks?”  
“Of course! How could I forget? My sincerest apologies, Golden boy, for disrespecting your position,” Draco gasped theatrically, bowing as deep as was proper for a wizard. When he saw Potter shaking with laughter, Draco even went as far as lightly taking Potter’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I leave the two of you alone for just one minute, and you are already getting it on,” Neville’s voice sounded suddenly. “Grow some self-control, will you?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If anyone around here is in possession of self-control, it’s me, Neville.”  
“Then Harry here must have a very strong influence on you.”

So absorbed in trying to convince Neville of his perfect control, Draco didn’t notice how brightly Potter suddenly blushed. He should stop being surprised by these things, because Pansy already told him Draco was in love with him, but it was odd to actually see it. Now that he started to understand how Draco acted around people he cared about, now that Draco seemed comfortable enough to joke and flirt a bit with Potter, it got harder and harder to think clearly about what they were doing.

He knew Draco was attractive. He had seen it at the start of the year, and the man hadn’t lost his looks in just a few months. And he was kind, helpful, caring, soft, funny even.

So now what? What did a person do after such a revelation?

First of all, Potter had never had a relationship with a man, although he couldn’t imagine it was very different from a relationship with a woman. But the _Prophet_ would certainly pounce on it like a starved lion on a dying zebra. The article of two weeks back was bad enough as it was, and Potter absolutely didn’t want another debacle like that.

Of course, from now on, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to open letters from strangers, when such news had only just come out, but still, the article in itself wasn’t extremely flattering. It hadn’t accused Draco of anything, but the suggestion that Draco was only hanging out with Potter because of some evil plan, had been there.

Potter couldn’t and wouldn’t believe that Draco was planning something. He had seen Draco with his children; Draco would never again do something that might hurt the four younger Malfoys. He hadn’t even punished the two students who had manipulated Ophiuchus in morphing into Voldemort. He had stayed calm, ignored it, and assured Phi of his support and love.

The only two times Draco had gotten angry this school year, was with Terence and Priscus, and the time when Potter had insulted Pansy.

“Potter, are you dreaming?” Draco laughed. Potter shook himself out of his stupor.  
“Of course, dreaming of love declarations in the rain and romantic walks on the beach,” Neville teased. “He always dreams of that, right Harry?”  
“Whatever Neville. Are you two done excluding me from the conversation, then?”

Draco frowned. “We honestly kept calling your name every five seconds, but you were completely out of here. What were you thinking of?”  
“Like Neville said, love declaration in the rain and romantic walks on the beach,” Potter shrugged.  
“I never knew you liked the rain so much,” Draco commented.  
“I don’t. Love declarations are just that much more sincere when they are in the pouring rain. Or at dawn, when the sun is barely up.”  
“And why exactly are walks on the beach romantic? Isn’t it annoying, the sand in your shoes and the freezing wind blowing your hair out of style?”

Potter laughed. “Have you ever seen me? My hair doesn’t know what style is. Besides, a romantic walk means no shoes. Just walking through the water, and one of you carrying the shoes, throwing an arm around the other, walking silently or laughingly, but just… together. You know?”

Neville had turned around to talk to some of the other professors, so Draco and Potter were sitting alone at the table.

“I must say, I don’t know,” Draco admitted. “I haven’t really had any romantic interests in my life.”  
“You’ve been missing out,” Potter smiled. He couldn’t help but notice how this felt like a date.  
“Have I? About the romantic interests or walking on the beach?”  
“Both,” Potter laughed. “It feels good to love someone. Or to be in love, or to fancy someone. However you want to call it.”  
“Of course I _love_ people. Do you think I hate my children? But no, I haven’t felt the kind of love or fancy that could turn into a well-working relationship. I did have a crush once, though.”

Potter perked up, grinning mischievously. “Did you? Who was it? Was it a guy? Do I know him?”  
“I am not telling you who it was, Potter. But yes, it was a guy. Kind of how I realised I wasn’t _just_ into girls.”  
“Was he from Hogwarts? He was, wasn’t he? It must be, because after Hogwarts you almost immediately started courting Astoria.”  
“You’ve been keeping an eye on me,” Draco remarked dryly.  
“Don’t change the subject. Can you answer one question for me?”

Draco sighed. “You won’t find out.”  
“Just allow me one question.”  
“You actually think you can deduce who it was with only one question?”

“Well,” Potter shrugged. “I used to be an Auror, didn’t I? We had to solve cases with much less clues.”  
“All right. One question.”  
“And if I guess the right person, you will answer honestly?”

Raising his eyebrows, Draco looked at Potter disbelievingly. “Of course not! Then you could just keep guessing until it’s the right one.”

Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco in thought. “Okay. I get to ask one question, and then I am allowed to guess _once_. And you’ll answer honestly.”  
“ _And_ if you haven’t guessed correctly today, we will never speak of it again,” Draco demanded. With a smile, Potter nodded.

“So, it’s an embarrassing crush, isn’t it? Good to know,” he joked. At seeing how Draco’s hands were quickly folded together in the position that indicated nervousness, Potter smirked. This would be fun.

“Okay, my question. In what house and what year was he?” Potter asked.  
“Those are two questions. Besides, I only answer with yes or no.”  
“It was worth a try. Then my question is… Was he a Slytherin?”

Reluctantly, Draco shook his head. He was quite proud of how calm he seemed. Potter wouldn’t be able to see through his poker face, he was sure of it.

“Not a Slytherin? How interesting. It does enlarge the pool a bit, but… I doubt it was a Hufflepuff. I don’t think you would be good with a Hufflepuff,” Potter thought out loud. “And following the rule that opposites attract, I am guessing it was a Gryffindor.”

Potter observed Draco and saw how Draco was clenching his jaw a bit. It was obviously a Gryffindor.

“Now, I don’t think you had time for much during sixth or seventh year. You said it was a crush, so it didn’t last extremely long. Perhaps one year? Hmm, not during first or second year, I think. Was it third year?”

Draco didn’t respond, even seemed to relax his jaw again. Not third year, then.

“Fifth year has two sides. You either had more important things to worry about, or you wanted some distraction and therefore allowed yourself to have a crush. Was your crush in fifth year?”  
“You already had your question, Potter,” Draco warned.  
“Fifth year it was. What happened during fifth year? We had Umbridge, we started the DA…”

Potter was quiet for a long time, in which Draco went to get them both a Butterbeer and sipped slowly of it.

“You are a proud man. You know what you’re worth. If I know you the way I think I do, you would never fall for someone who wasn’t worthy of you. Someone who couldn’t stand up against you. Right?”

Draco smiled faintly, looking at his hands.

“That guy you had a crush on was strong-willed, perhaps even stubborn. He was probably able to make fifth year into something good, for himself or for others. He –“ Potter broke off suddenly, flicking his eyes to Draco’s. Draco stared back, wondering why Potter would stop talking all of a sudden, until he saw the glimmer in Potter’s eyes and a smirk pulling up.

“No,” Potter whispered. “I can’t be,” he grinned full-out.  
“What are you talking about?” Draco manages to snap, a bit more aggressive than he meant to.  
“Did you really? Merlin and Godric, both, that is fantastic!” Potter laughed.  “You honestly – You really – Yes, you have to. It’s the only possibility.”  
“Potter, _what_ are you saying?”  
“It makes so much sense now!” Potter exclaimed. “Of _course_ that’s your crush!”

Draco balled his fist and leaned forward. “Could you tone it down?” he hissed, signing to the other professors that were still talking to each other.

Potter nodded. “Sure, sorry. But really, Malfoy? You could have been less obvious, you know.”  
“Who are you talking about? Why would you be so sure?”

With a grin, Potter leaned closer to Draco. “Draco Malfoy. Was your first real crush by any chance a sweet, funny guy named George Weasley?”

Draco’s entire arm tensed with the way he suddenly clenched his fists. “What?”

“Oh come on. You always thought he was fun; the twins were the only Weasleys you didn’t despise. You were one of the rare people who knew who was Fred and who was George. George was good at Quidditch, which I am sure you appreciated. He isn’t terrible to look at, he is very clever and ambitious. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you looked at him when you talked to him at the Wheezes, a few weeks ago,” Potter summed up.

“That’s nonsense. I didn’t look at him in any way!”  
“You did, Malfoy. All flirty and cute. Don’t get me wrong, it was adorable to look at, but you could have toned it down a little. He’s quite straight.”

Draco huffed. “I wasn’t flirting. I wouldn’t even want to.”  
“Of course, because it was only a short crush and nothing serious,” Potter mocked gently.  
“It wasn’t serious! Neville knows that I’ve never actually fancied someone; he knows I had drank Veritaserum when I told him that.”

Neville turned around. “What do I know? No, indeed, you never fancied someone, I’m quite sure. Why are you guys talking about this?”  
“Neville, turn away,” Potter ordered jokingly. “This is private talk.”

Shrugging, Neville just immersed himself in the conversation with the others. Potter grinned wickedly.

“But I was right? It was George?”

Draco rolled his eyes in response.

“I need you to say it out loud, Malfoy. Say: George Weasley was my first real crush. Come on, say it.”  
“Georgeweasleywasmyfirstrealcrush,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

Potter leaned back in his chair and sipped from his Butterbeer. “Good enough. I must say I understand, you know. George is very handsome. And funny. I sometimes think whether my relationship with Ginny was just the heterosexual projection of my attraction to Charlie, Bill or the twins. Have you _seen_ Charlie lately?” he said wide-eyed.

Draco laughed, grateful for the change in focus. “Of course, I see him every night in my bed. What do you think, Potter, that I have kept in touch with a Weasley I never knew and who probably never wants to see me?” he joked.

Smiling, Potter stretched his legs, causing them to bump against Draco’s. Neither moved.  
“I think all Weasleys have quite forgiven you. Hermione and Molly will probably hold the strongest grudge against you, but the others don’t hate you anymore.”  
“Hermione doesn’t like me, no. I saw her a couple months back for a S.P.E.W. event.”  
“She’s just hesitant. She doesn’t know what to make of you, because she hasn’t talked to you in ages. She’ll come around.”

Startle, the flying instructor, put down two strong Muggle whiskies in front of them, saying something about a celebration, and turned away to drink his whiskies with Neville, Hellodorn and Parnarush. Potter smiled at his drink.

“If Ron can forgive you, if George forgives you, the rest don’t really have the right not to. Besides, the Weasleys are a very loving family. They will accept you if they notice you are trying to make it right.”

Draco nodded. “They’re good people. I’m sorry for the way I treated them all those years, just because my father disagreed with Arthur.”  
“And you’re sorry for your loss of George’s friendship,” Potter teased.  
“Shut up, Potter.”  
“Never. I will treasure this knowledge for the rest of my life. Who else knows about this crush of yours?”

Scowling, Draco mumbled, “No one. And it better stay that way!”  
“Naturally.”  
“What did you mean with how I looked at George that time at the Wheezes?” Draco asked then, hesitantly.

Potter laughed. “Okay, don’t get angry, but you were… well, like I said, you were cute. You seemed a bit nervous, but the good kind. Lowering your gaze a bit, attracting attention to your hands. You’ve got very elegant hands.”

“How – what – how did I attract attention to my hands?” Draco sounded confused.  
“You didn’t do it on purpose? Well, you were moving with your hands a lot and playing a bit with your fingers. Like a nervous teenage girl.”

At Draco’s scowl, Potter chuckled again and assured him that it was adorable, only making Draco’s frown deeper.

“All right, you were very manly and strong and powerful and handsome. Happy?”  
“Very.”

Draco hid his smile with a large gulp of his drink.

“Now tell me your embarrassing crushes,” he demanded.  
“The _Prophet_ already discussed that matter in great detail,” Potter reflected, earning a narrowed look from Draco. He laughed.

“Okay, well, the truth is, I didn’t have many embarrassing crushes. You know about Cho Chang and you know about Ginny. That’s it.”

“Fair enough. But when did you realise you were gay? I mean, you were married to Ginny for quite a while, which only serves as more proof of your complete obliviousness.”  
“I know, it’s awful. It was Ginny, actually, who got me to realise. One day, she just sat me down and told me that the way I could sympathise when she appreciated a man’s arse wasn’t exactly common among straight men.”

“No!”  
“Yes. She said I should think about it and talk to her when I figured it out. I had no idea what I should do, like, it’s very awkward if your wife sits you down like that. But luckily, I know someone who’s gay, and I was able to talk to him about it. He was a great help. And when I told Ginny I thought she was right about me being not straight, she just smiled, gave me a hug and supported me when I told the others.”

Draco nodded slowly. “Who is the gay person in your circle, then? I don’t believe it is public knowledge that you have a gay friend. Otherwise, you would already be papped together more often than you and Ginny.”

“Well, he’s not out. Not even to our friends.”  
“Then how do you know?”  
“Apparently, my gaydar is not bad,” Potter joked.  
Draco smiled. “Why isn’t he out?”  
“Well… He’s been in love with another friend of ours ever since they met. He doesn’t want to ruin that friendship and be left with nothing.”  
“Understandable. But couldn’t that friend be in love with him, too?”

Potter laughed bitterly, eyes sad because of his friend. “That friend is rather straight. No doubt about that. In a steady relationship.”

Squinting his eyes, Draco observed Potter. “Is it Seamus?”  
“What?”  
“Is Seamus gay? In love with Dean, who’s engaged to Ginny?”

A look of surprise appeared on Potter’s face. “How do you know?”  
“I always thought Seamus was in love with him.”

They remained silent for a few moments, until Draco spoke again.

“Well, Ginny was married to another gay man for more than a decade. Who know, she could be wrong about Dean’s sexuality as well.”

Laughing, Potter shook his head.

“You’re an idiot.”  
“Yes. But I’m a cute idiot,” Draco shot back.

Smiling in his glass before taking a sip, Potter looked at the wooden table between them and tapped his foot twice against Draco’s shin.

“That you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'ed and hoping for the best.
> 
> Comments will result in quicker updates and lovely December vibes!
> 
> If you want to talk about Drarry or life or love, don't hesitate to do so. Always open for talkie talkies :D i-am-and-proud on Tumblr, or just in the comments below.
> 
> Want me to read a fic for you? Will do! Just give me the title and/or link and I'll check it out!


	27. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You people are fantastic!
> 
> More chapters to come in the next days, because Christmas and Christmas is fun. So keep checking your mail for updates!

_Dear mister Shacklebolt,_

_I hope this owl finds you in good health and looking forward to the festivities. My mother wishes you a merry Christmas and the best wishes for the New Year._

_I am writing with a very bold question, hoping that you might be able to help me. In case you do not read this yourself, but a secretary or complex wards, I very much hope this letter gets through, for I do not know who else to turn to._

_As you may know, the possession of the late Severus Snape are being kept in a vault at Gringotts, only accessible with the explicit permission of the Head Auror, Minister of Magic or Head Curse Breaker. This letter is to ask your permission._

_I am currently trying to arrange a Christmas present for someone who means a lot to me. The late Mr. Snape was in possession of a very important part of this Christmas present, meaning that without this part, my gift is worthless. I realise this sounds very vague and rather suspicious, coming from me, but I can assure you I am not scheming. I wish to have a photograph Mr. Snape owned, of two persons he knew from his youth._

_If you find it too dangerous to allow me in Mr. Snape’s vault, I have no objections against someone retrieving the photograph in my place and, if necessary, examining it for any Dark magic._

_My only wish is to be able to give this particular photograph to the one it should belong to, the receiver of my gift._

_I am contactable for any questions or comments you might have._

_Hoping to hear from you soon,  
Draco Malfoy_

Draco stared forlornly at the letter he had sent the Minister and that had now been returned. Apparently, the Minister hadn’t seen it necessary to read the letter, let alone answer it. It disappointed Draco, but he wasn’t surprised.

When he folded up the paper, he noticed a sticky note on the back of it.

_I haven’t got much time for a letter right now. If you are available on such short notice, please meet me at Gringotts around 5 o’clock to retrieve your photograph. Sincerely, Kingsley Shacklebolt_

Casting a quick Tempus charm, Draco saw he only had twenty more minutes. His classes were over, and he didn’t have anything to do until dinner, since it was exam week and the Potions exams only started tomorrow. His children were freaking out.

Draco changed into his pale orange robes, covered his shoulders with a thick cloak and walked in the direction of Hogsmeade so he could Apparate to Diagon Alley. He could see the Gringotts façade and rushed to be there in time. The Minister was waiting for him, talking to the boss Goblin –Draco had no idea what his name was.

“Minister,” Draco greeted politely, bowing as low as his traditional position would allow. The Minister smiled amusedly, gripping Draco’s hand firmly.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you’d come with me, then we can open Mr. Snape’s vault immediately.” The Minister signed for the boss Goblin to lead the way. “You may call me Kingsley, by the way. Or Shacklebolt, if you feel more comfortable with that,” he offered. “I have spoken to your mother repeatedly now. Is she well?”

Draco smiled. “Yes, she is, thank you. I wish you would call me by my given name then, as well.”  
“All right, I will. I’m glad you could come on such a short notice. I’m sorry it was only a small note on the back of your letter, but I really had no other option.”  
“It’s not a problem.”  
“Good, good. May I ask what you’re looking for in Snape’s vault?”  
“Well, as I said, it’s a Christmas present. Mr. Snape owned a photograph –“  
“Yes, I know. What kind of picture? It might be easier to find if we know what we’re looking for.”

Smiling slightly at Kingsley’s clear curiosity, Draco gazed up at the enormous door they had stopped in front of, and which was now opened by the boss Goblin. When the door slowly opened and all kinds of potioneering materials appeared, Draco started telling what exactly he was looking for.

“What makes you think that Snape had this?” Kingsley asked, surprised.  
“I’m quite sure of it. There were… personal reasons for it. Knowing Mr. Snape, it can probably be found in a wooden box.”

Kingsley nodded. He cast an Accio of wooden boxes, after which two large boxes zoomed their way. Kingsley and Draco both caught one. The one Kingsley opened appeared to be the correct one. Carefully digging through very old papers and photographs, Draco finally found the one he was looking for.

“It seems you were right,” Kingsley smiled. “Let me just cast one little diagnostic spell… All right, this seems fine. You can take it with you.”  
Draco stared at the picture and rubbed his jaw in sympathy of Severus. It had probably been his own fault, but he still had to live with a lot of sadness.

Since Draco was in London, he decided to do a bit more Christmas shopping. The first shop he stepped in, was a bookshop, where he bought a rare book of the meanings of Patronuses and historical Wizards that had those Patronuses for Aquila. After that, he visited the Quidditch shop to buy the newest broomstick for Cassie and high-end Quidditch protection for Aquila and Scorpius. When he walked to the Apparition Point he would be using, he passed by a sign of a small Wizarding flea market.

It had always been one of his favourite things of towns. Flea markets had something romantic, something cosy. The one he was visiting now, wasn’t the most regular, the cheapest kind: all items were rare, very unique and extremely expensive.

After an hour, he left the flea market with his pockets full of breakable stuff. A neat pocket watch for Blaise, a glass bauble that showed a more beautiful reflection for his Mother, a bottle of Elf wine from his father’s year of birth, and a rare sort of plant for Neville.

But the proudest he was of a present for Potter. He had found a silver ornamental Snitch at one of the far stands, which was decorated with small diamonds and black pearls. It had cost Draco more than he would like to admit and he wasn’t entirely sure whether Potter would like it.

Perhaps it was a bit too feminine. Usually, women were receivers of expensive gems, not men. And Potter never seemed to be very interested in expensive materials, like Pansy was. It could be that Potter wouldn’t like it at all, and then Draco would seem like an insufferable arse.

But Draco couldn’t have helped it. It was too accurate, too tempting.

Draco had never been good at resisting shiny objects.

He was able to buy a very cliché Snitch pyjamas for Albus and a wooden flower press for Lily. When he returned at Hogwarts, he was satisfied with the amount of presents he had bought. Potter met him on the courtyard, as if he had known Draco would arrive at that exact moment.

“Hiya Malfoy! Christmas shopping again?” Potter asked excitedly. “I am so looking forward to Christmas! Man, I haven’t been this impatient for Christmas to begin since the first time I would spend Christmas with the Weasleys.”

Draco laughed. “Why are you so excited? You act like a child.”  
“Don’t act like you don’t like it. You think I’m funny, admit it.”  
“I will do no such thing, Potter.”  
“You sure? I have a very interesting story about your crush, you know.”  
“Don’t you dare.”  
“Admit you like me.”  
“No.”  
“Come on, I’m funny.”  
“You’re not.”  
“I’m cute?”  
“Not even close.”  
“I’m tolerable?”

Snorting, Draco pushed Potter out of his way and walked away. “If you like being tolerable…”  
“I do.”  
“Then hereby, you are officially ‘tolerable.’ Congratulations.”

Potter beamed at him. “That’s the biggest compliment you’ve ever given me. Thank you.”  
“Don’t mention it. Anyways, how far are you with your Christmas shoppings?”  
“Pretty far. Oh, thanks for reminding me, I got a letter from the Weasleys.”  
“Are you so desperate for their attention that you need to tell me when the Weasleys have written you?” Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.  
“Obviously. No, they asked me to invite you to their Boxing Day dinner.”  
“What?”

Shrugging, Potter looked at the snow crunching under their feet. “At Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we spend the day with our separate families, Ginny and Dean are going to Dean’s Mother. And on Boxing Day the entire Weasley clan comes together for Molly’s roast. And we exchange a bit more presents.”

“Why would I be invited?”  
“They heard you would be alone, and they would never accept that. So, they want you to join us. They’re a very welcoming family.”  
“So it seems. But, I mean, I’m not even close to being family. Why would they want me to be there?”  
“They’re the Weasleys. It’s the only necessary explanation,” Potter said easily. “If you’re worried about convenience, you could stay another night at my place. It wouldn’t be a problem. At all.”

Draco smiled. “I would have to ask my children, but –“  
“You would have to ask us what?”

Cassie, Lily, Aquila, Roxane and Dominique were standing in front of Draco and Potter. Scorpius, Albus, James, Lucy and Louis were heading their way as well.

“Well, we got an invitation from the Weasleys to spend Boxing Day at the Burrow,” Draco explained.

Cassie squealed. “Really? I would like that!”  
Aquila turned enthusiastically towards Dominique and hugged her. “We’ll be seeing each other over the holidays then!”

Draco raised an eyebrow in the direction of Potter.

“It seems we’ll take the invitation,” he grinned. Potter only nodded and started talking to James, trying to hide his smile.

Aquila grinned at something Phi whispered. “Papa,” she started slowly. “Do you see where you’re standing?” Her gaze travelled upwards, to the ceiling.

Draco closed his eyes for a second, not daring to look up. Where Potter had been talking to James, it was quiet now. The moment he did look up, he saw a magical mistletoe hanging above his and Potter’s heads.

Raising an imperial eyebrow, Draco stared his four children down, hoping Potter was portraying the same kind of sternness.

“Forget it,” he said softly, but without allowing backtalk. With a last nod towards the Potter and Weasley children, he walked away. Cassie followed him immediately.

“Papa! Papa, wait.”

Reluctantly, Draco waited for his daughter. When she had caught up, they walked towards Draco’s apartment together. Cassie stayed quiet, gathering the right words to say. At long last, she stood still in front of the door and stopped Draco from going inside.

“You do know that we’re all right with it, don’t you?” she asked quietly.   
Draco looked at the ground between them. “Cassie –“  
“No, let me say it. We have thought about it, we have talked about it, with the four of us. We know what the consequences are. We _know_ about the article, papa. We read it.”

She gazed searchingly at Draco, seeing so much more than the impassive mask he always wore.

“We know that people will think badly of you, or that they will take this to hurt you. We thought it through. But, papa… None of us have ever seen you smile so much with anyone except either one of us,” she continued. “You would be stupid to let him go. If only because he is a Gryffindor and I would quite like a Gryffindor in the family.”

Draco laughed faintly, Cassie suddenly hugging him.

“Now, make sure you hide the presents well, otherwise Phi will find them soon enough. But remember what I said, all right? I love you. Even if you don’t tell me the truth about your past, and even if you’re scared to do what you want to do.”

Feeling an irrepressible smile forming around his lips, Draco put down the bag to pull Cassie in a bone-crushing hug.

“One day, I will tell you everything, love. Everything you might possibly want to know. When you’re older.”  
“I know,” Cassie smiled. “I’ll hold you to it. But I’ve got to go, Lily is waiting. I’m helping her with Charms.”

Giving Draco a last pet on his windblown hair, Cassie ran away, leaving Draco to hide the presents he had bought. Upon realising he would have to buy presents for _all_ the Weasleys, he groaned. Another shopping trip to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade was in order.

At dinner, Draco had a long and enjoyable talk with Potter, mostly about Boxing Day and the Weasleys, to try and find out what he could buy for them. It would be small presents, since he didn’t know them very well and he had no idea what was expected of him.

A week later, it was the last day before Christmas holiday would start. Draco was very much stressed. It was the twentieth already, and he still didn’t have presents for everyone. He had bought Cassie a chocolate making set, Ginny a special, fancy kind of Quaffle to practice, a pair of expensive high heels for Pansy and some perfumes and bath soaps for the wives of George and Percy. He had been able to buy a book ‘Potions and Pranks’ for George and a book of the greatest wizards of Wizarding history for Percy. He was also quite proud of his present for Dean Thomas; high-quality paint for his artistic hobbies.

But what should he buy for the Weasley parents? And Charlie, Bill and Fleur? And, perhaps the most important ones, what could he buy for Ron and Hermione, who could practically get anything they wanted?

He actually _did_ have an idea for Charlie. Charlie was the dragon man, wasn’t he? Grinning, Draco grabbed parchment and a quill to send a letter to one of his friends from the dragon industry, making sure his friend knew that it was urgent.

On his walk towards the Owlery to send the owl, Draco pondered what he could buy for Ophiuchus. It was also his birthday on New Year’s Eve, so Draco would have to find an extra gift for him. Gifts for Phi were usually not very difficult, because Phi was happy with everything he got, and Draco already had vague idea, but he would need to organise them well.

Greg would get a ticket for a rehabilitation centre, which Draco knew he wanted, but couldn’t get the money for himself.

Sitting back down at the table in his apartment, Draco pondered how he could obtain something for the last Weasleys and the Potter children. The Weasley children would get a shared gift, some kind of game or something.

Oh, Arthur was such a fan of Muggles, wasn’t he? Perhaps Draco had a present for him at home. He should remember that.

That evening, Draco and his children took the train back to London. Draco was sat with Potter and Neville, while the children were bothering each other somewhere else.

“So, I’ll see you in a few days?” Potter asked when they were at King’s Cross. “Christmas Eve?”  
“Of course,” Draco smiled. “What time should we be there? Is tea time all right?”

Potter affirmed it, called a quick ‘Merry Christmas! See you next year!’ to Neville and Hannah, and then turned back to Draco.

“You know you don’t have to buy the Weasleys presents as well, right?”  
“Too late, I already bought presents for most of them. Besides, it’s bad impression to show up without a gift for the hosts. Especially when I’m interrupting something as private as Christmas.”  
“You’re not interrupting. They are happy to have you there.”  
“If you say so.” Draco looked around, seeing his children arriving with their suitcases and Phi smiling sweetly. Draco laughed at him. “Aren’t you too old to be picked up, Ophiuchus?”

Phi shook his head violently. “Never!” he swore.  
Draco merely smiled and picked him up, shrinking the trunk to fit it in his pocket.

“Potter, I’ll see you at Christmas Eve. Enjoy your weekend, till then!” Draco called, walking away with his children.

His car was stood at the same spot where he had left it, which was more than fortunate. They drove home, everyone except for Cassie and Draco falling asleep on top of each other. After a two hour drive, the charming little town of Melksham, Wiltshire appeared in front of them. The main street crossed right through town and turned into a long, winding road, connecting Melksham to other villages in the neighbourhood. On the left side of this road, a bit away from the actual town, there was a barely noticeable pathway, covered with white gravel. This path led to a few farmhouses and farmlands, but there was also a wrought iron gate to be found. The gate opened to let the car through and closed again. It was a nice bit of magic, getting the gate to recognise a Muggle car, and Draco was quite proud of what he had achieved with it.

The house itself looked a bit like the Malfoy Manor, but it had many differences. For one, it was much smaller. It was still a sizeable home, even with four children, but it was definitely not a manor. It could be called a villa, or perhaps a holiday cottage of the richer kind.

Scorpius had come up with the name, ‘Malfoy Lodge’, which was proudly decorating the iron gate and the front door.

Draco was able to quietly wake his children, to get them inside and in bed. He even carried all five trunks so they didn’t have to. Half-sleeping and too tired to disobey, Aquila, Cassiopeia and Ophiuchus waddled into their respective bedrooms to fall asleep again before Draco had even brought their trunks upstairs.

When he trudged back downstairs, yawning widely, he saw Scorpius sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, hugging a few cushions.

“Aren’t you supposed to go to bed?” Draco asked softly, not wanting to disturb the sleepy atmosphere in the house.  
“I’ll go soon. Just… I just want to take a few breaths and relax, okay? Just… just a few minutes.”  
“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

Draco sat down at the large dining table and placed the bag and the papers he had taken out of his trunk in front of him. Grabbing a quill, he began contemplating again on what Christmas presents he should give. Mostly how he would get three more pictures for the pretty frames he had bought.

“What are you thinking about?” Scorpius sounded from the other side of the room. Draco looked up to see him with a tired, but content expression on his face.  
“Just some Christmas gifts.”  
“Why don’t you give a book? You always give books when you don’t know what else to give.”  
“Because,” Draco started. “This is someone I want to have a well thought-out gift for.”

Scorpius shuffled to lay on his stomach, still looking at the fire, but now with a knowing smile on his face.

“Is it Harry’s present?”

Draco leaned back in his chair. “Among others. I also want presents for the Weasleys.”  
“Oh. Who are those picture frames for?”  
“One of them.”

They remained silent for a long while, until Draco narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Since when are you allowed to call Potter by his first name?”

Scorpius snorted. “We’ve been calling him Harry since the beginning of this school year. It’s weird to call him Professor when I’m talking to his children of his cousins.”  
“It’s not polite, Scorpius.”  
“I don’t do it to his face. Only when we’re talking about him behind his back.”  
“Scorpius!” Draco scolded, still in the soft half-whisper of their conversation.

Again, Scorpius laughed a bit. “All good things. We talk about him when we’re wondering whether you and he are ever going to get together. The Weasleys call you Draco or Mr. Malfoy as well.” Scorpius sent him a pointed look. “ _Are_ you and he ever going to get together?”  
“That’s none of your business, Scorp.”  
“So you don’t know?”  
“I don’t know what this has to do with you.”  
“Papa, I just want to help.”

Draco sighed. “You could help by not confusing me any further, love. Now, go to bed. We’ve got a busy week coming up. You ought to be well rested.”

Scorpius nodded, dragging himself up and giving Draco a peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, papa.”

Draco only cleaned up the presents before he went to bed as well, setting a Tempus Alarm for nine o’clock in the morning. It was time he had a lie-in.

Meanwhile, somewhere in London, a family of three children and their dad were seated in the sitting room, all holding a glass of drinks.

“How was your first semester at Hogwarts?” Potter asked Lily, who was sitting on the ground at his feet, leaning her back against Potter.  
“I liked it. I like the classes, it’s really interesting. I never knew magic could do so much!”  
“I’m glad. Do you think you did your exams well last week?”  
“I hope so. Cassis helped me a lot, especially for Charms and Transfiguration, so I think those will be okay. DADA was a bit tricky, but I had a good teacher. And Potions is really fun.”

Albus laughed. “You are the first Potter to ever think that, Lills. It’s not meant for us. Potters are good at other things.”  
“I don’t like Potions, but I’m not _bad_ at it,” James interrupted. “I’m average. It’s just Dad who is rubbish at it.”  
“Why is that?” Lily asked. “Potions isn’t difficult.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Well, _you_ have a competent teacher. I was saddled with a man who hated teaching and hated me even more.”  
“Did Severus Snape ever hurt you?” Albus wondered out loud.

At Potter’s curious look, Albus shrugged. “It’s just that Mr. Malfoy is very complimentary about him, and Neville said that he was a bully, but he could understand where Severus was coming from.”

Potter shook his head. “No, he never physically hurt me. He was verbally strong, though.”  
“Aren’t all Slytherins?” James teased jokingly. “I mean, Draco can really make some nasty comments.”  
“How would you know?” Lily challenged.  
“Well, little sis, because he sometimes tries to draw me out, so I don’t slouch away in my seat and stop paying attention.”

Lily opened her mouth, but Potter broke her off.

“Wait, when did you start calling him ‘Draco’?” he asked bewildered.  
“Isn’t that his name?” Albus asked innocently. James shared a smile with Lily.  
“I don’t mind, but it’s just odd. He’s your professor!”

Albus rolled his eyes. “And so are you, but we’re still calling you ‘Dad’.”  
“And by the way, if the two of you would finally stop acting like skittish little pups around each other, Draco might just be more than just a professor to us.”

Potter turned red, causing laughter to ring out from his children. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled indignantly.

Albus laughed louder. “You should have seen your face when you realised you were standing under the mistletoe! You were really disappointed when he walked away, weren’t you?”  
“I wasn’t!” maintained stubbornly. “I was confused.”

“If by ‘confused’, you mean ‘desperately hoping for anything, even if it’s just a hug or a pat on the shoulder – anything to prolong our conversation and get me some physical contact’, then you most certainly were ‘confused,” Lily supplied sarcastically. “And don’t deny it.”

Grumbling under his breath, Potter took a few sips from his tea and looked at the patterns on his chair. He hadn’t been disappointed when Draco walked away. Of course not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need to talk about love, life or loath? I'm available :D i-am-and-proud
> 
> Comments get some Christmas romance going!


	28. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite sure about this chapter, but I just had to post a Christmas Eve thing. I hope you like it!
> 
> It's only Christmas Eve where I live, but I wish you all a very Merry Christmas!!

“Hi,” Draco said when the door of Grimmauld Place opened. His children and he had driven the car to London and the house had appeared after Draco had called the strange incantation Potter had mentioned in one of his owls.

Potter smiled, tugging on his coat. “Hey, you’re here!”

Draco eyed Potter’s coat and frowned. “Are we early? I thought we said tea time, but I can be mistaken? If that’s the case, we can –“  
“Oh no no! We said tea time. Didn’t I tell you? We have a little tradition to go to this flea market on Christmas Eve. I thought I had told you.”

Aquila laughed, Cassie elbowed Draco. “A flea market? That’s fun, right papa? You like flea markets, don’t you?” she teased gently.  
Draco nodded faintly. “Yes, yes, that’s fun. If you want, we can entertain ourselves somewhere in London. It’ll be fine,” he assured Potter.

Potter just shook his head. “Of course not. You’ll join us! It’s in Muggle London, though.”  
“ _Muggle_ London?” Scorpius exclaimed.  
“We’ve never been there,” Draco said sheepishly, feeling more than a little embarrassed at the admission.  
“Just try not to look like a tourist. You’ll be fine.” Potter smiled brightly. “So, I guess you want to put away your bags? Aquila and Cassie can sleep in Lily’s room, Scorpius with Albus and there’s a bed for Phi in James’s room.”

The children all picked up their bags and hurried towards their rooms, leaving Potter and Draco smiling at each other.

“You get the guest room. Come on,” Potter grinned, grabbing Draco’s suitcase and walking up the stairs.  
“You do know I can carry my own stuff, right?”

Potter barked out a laugh. “I haven’t learned much of my aunt and uncle, but I do know that it’s polite to carry your guest’s things. Besides, aren’t you used to thousands of elves following your every command?”  
“Funny. I’m a Pureblood, I must have an army of house-elves at home. Nice,” Draco joked sarcastically.  
“I thought it was. So this room is James’s, this is Albus and Lily’s room is over there. Your guest room is right here.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “A guest room next to your daughter’s room? Purebloods would never allow such a thing,” he remarked dryly. Potter chuckled.  
“I’ve got another guest room at the boys’s hallway. I suspect I can trust you, with two of your daughters sleeping in the same room, and all that.” Potter sent Draco a wide smile. “And I just thought you would like to be close to Cassie, in case she got a nightmare.”

Gaping a bit, Draco stared at Potter while the latter opened the door to the guest room. “Th- thank you,” he managed eventually. “That’s very considerate of you.”  
“I didn’t do it for you, of course,” Potter responded haughtily. “Why would you think I’d do something kind for you? That’s not like me _at all_.” He winked at Draco and put the suitcase down on the ground beside the closet.

“So, as I said we have a tradition to go to a Muggle flea market. My plan was to go there as soon as you are all settled and just enjoy it for a bit. Probably we’ll have dinner there as well, buy something at a stall, since I guess we’ll be out till ten o’clock. Especially because I think you’d want to do some London sightseeing as well. And when we’re back, the children go to bed as soon as possible and then we can do whatever we like. You could sleep as well, or help me with the last preparations for tomorrow. Does that sound good?”

Draco couldn’t help but nod. “So, this flea market. What can I expect?” he asked.  
“It’s more like a huge Christmas market. There are stalls everywhere, so it’ll take a while to have seen everything. Ehm, fantastic pieces of rubbish can be bought there. You’ll love it, I’m sure. Cassie said you liked flea markets?”

Potter saw Draco’s eyes crinkle as he was suppressing a smile. The faint blush that was colouring Draco’s cheeks was barely noticeable in the TL light, but it seemed that Potter had become very finely attuned to every one of Draco’s reactions.

“Yes, I like flea markets,” Draco said softly. “They’re… well, it has something, right? It’s cosy, it’s intimate. I’ve always liked flea markets.”  
Potter smiled. “I feel exactly the same,” he assured Draco. He felt the air between them change into something else, something heavier and more magnetic. He knew Draco felt it too, saw it in how Draco’s hand clasped in front of him and he started fiddling with his fingers, and how he swallowed without breaking his gaze.

Potter didn’t know how they had gotten so close, who had moved first. Perhaps they both had. Potter felt the air of Draco’s deep sigh blow away one of the stray strands that hang in front of his eyes. His eyes flicked down to Draco’s mouth, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. He didn’t even want to stop it, or deny it. He hadn’t wanted to deny it for a couple months now.

“Malfoy –“

Loud laughter from the room next door and a bang that didn’t predict much good, interrupted whatever had been about to happen. Draco schooled his defeat inhumanly quick behind a friendly, less loaded expression.

“Could you check up on the girls? I’m just going to change real fast,” he smiled. Potter averted his eyes to the ground and nodded.  
“Sure. I’ll make sure the children will be ready to go when you get down. Don’t rush.”

Potter stepped out of the guest room, and knocked on Lily’s door, not seeing two black-haired boys quickly hiding back in their room, one boy whose hair flicked to bright green before he had it back under control and one who looked very much like Potter.

Draco closed the door when Potter had departed, and leaned against it, breathing deeply. “A flea market. Of course. This is going to be awful,” he murmured to himself. Then, he steeled himself, and opened his suitcase to grab his favourite hoodie.

He Glamoured it to look like a baby blue vest, pushed his nose in the collar and took a deep whiff. He should stop doing this. It was creepy, especially now he knew for certain who it had belonged to. He would throw it away. After today. After this weekend.

Draco fixed his hair, grabbed a backpack in case his children didn’t want to wear their coats or scarves anymore and went downstairs, seeing everyone waiting for him. Potter was, according to James, outside with Phi, to release some of their energy in jumping jacks and squats.

“Typical,” Draco grumbled, tugging on his –rather fashionable- Muggle coat and winded his scarf around his neck. “Everyone wearing warm enough clothes? Aquila, do you have your gloves? You know how cold your hands get.”

At Aquila’s nod, Draco shooed the children out of the house, closing the door behind him and tapping Potter on his shoulder to set the wards. When they left, it was in pairs or trios talking to each other; Scorpius and Albus, James with Aquila and Cassie with Lily. Phi had taken hold of Potter’s hand. His hair was flicking between Malfoy blond, Potter black and energetic orange.

“Ophiuchus, did we pack a beanie for you?” Draco asked suddenly, doubtful. “I don’t think we did, did we?”

Potter looked at Draco’s worried face, who was now also digging through his backpack in hopes of finding a spare beanie in one of the neglected pockets.

“Hold on two seconds,” Potter called to the children that were walking in front of him. He excused himself to run in one of the side streets they had just passed and came back a few minutes later with a red and yellow beanie, with the tag still on it.

“Here you go,” he said while pulling the beanie over Phi’s eyes. “Make sure it covers your hair. You like it?”

While Phi was enthusiastically nodding and showing the beanie of to the others, who had already started walking again, Draco put on an unimpressed look.

“Red and yellow? Really?” he asked exasperatedly.  
“Anything wrong with it?” Potter returned innocently. “Does it remind you of something?”

Draco just scoffed and kept on walking, ignoring Potter’s smug look.

They arrived at the flea market only fifteen minutes later. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the clouded sky made it feel a lot later than it was.

“Okay, rules,” Potter announced. Cassie groaned, resulting in giggles from Albus and Lily.  
“You don’t touch anything. You don’t break anything. You don’t buy anything without mine of Malfoy’s permission. You don’t walk away without us knowing where you are. Try to stay together as much as possible, but make sure you are at least in pairs.”

Draco looked around at the large buildings he could see over the rooftops and was sorely tempted to stare with his mouth wide open. It was so different from any Wizarding town he had ever been. Even Melksham, which didn’t have a Wizarding community at all, didn’t look like this.

“And if you get lost, you walk to that big tower right there, yeah? It’s the Big Ben. You wait there at the large entrance, until we come find you. You don’t talk to any strangers, you don’t leave the Big Ben. We will find you if you stay there. Am I understood?”

The children nodded, promised to be careful and walked to the first stall, looking at some woodworking objects that were for sale there.

“That last bit also counts for you,” Potter said with a sly grin, when Draco had managed to look away from the Big Ben and caught Potter’s gaze.  
“Shut up,” Draco mumbled. Potter only laughed and joined the children in their track along the stalls.

Draco trudged a bit behind them, enjoying the wild diversity of items. At a certain point, Potter slowed down to join him, while both kept an eye on their children.

“Look at this,” Potter pointed, indicating a Santa hat that was playing music and had reindeer antlers moving on the beat.  
“I thought this was a Muggle market,” Draco wondered, confused. Potter grinned. Handing over a note and receiving an example of such a Santa hat, he offered it to Draco.  
“It is. How much do you know about electricity and batteries?” Potter asked. When Draco refused to take the hat, Potter just put it on his head and pushed a button, causing music to play and the antlers to move.

“I read something about that. It’s with electrons, right, that move in a current and deliver energy to the device being linked to it?”

A surprised grin took over Potter’s face. “Exactly. The electricity is caused by a battery, in this case, which is a small package of those electrons. The device linked to it, is a musical box in the hat and mechanics to make the antlers move.”

Draco saw people looking at him, at the music-making hat and grinned. “It’s getting me attention,” he observed satisfied.  
“Of course. No sane person walks around with such a hat.”  
“You bought it, not me.”  
“Because it looks good on you,” Potter smiled. “How do you know all that about electricity?”  
Smugly, Draco shrugged. “I read things.”

“Papa! Papa, look at – what are you wearing?” Scorpius sounded. He frowned disapprovingly at Draco’s hat.  
Draco sniffed snobbishly. “I am getting in the Christmas mood. What does it look like?”  
“Like you’re kidnapped and your replacement doesn’t quite know how to behave like you. I like it, though. You can stay,” Aquila decided dryly.  
“Are you saying you like a replacement better than your own papa?” Albus laughed. Draco poked Aquila in the side.

“That’s not kind, ‘Quila.” Potter narrowed his eyes at her with a playful expression.  
“Whatcha gon’ do ‘bout it?” Aquila challenged, snapping her fingers like a diva.

Potter shook his head, giving her a little shove. “Don’t worry, Malfoy, I like the real you better than any replacement they’d send,” he said over the heads of their children. Draco rolled his eyes and let Scorpius tug him to one of the stalls that sold various flavours of chocolate.

“Papa, can we buy some chocolate? Look at that, it looks _so_ good,” Scorpius drooled, staring at the pure and double chocolate bars that were for sale.  
Draco nodded, not speaking because he was too busy withholding himself from buying the entire supply.

Aquila stood next to Albus and Potter, snorting at her brother and papa. “They are chocolate addicts, honestly,” she told them.  
Albus nodded fervently. “Scorpius _always_ has chocolate with him. It’s revolting how much chocolate he eats in a week.”  
“If you think that’s revolting, you don’t want to know what papa does. He is much worse than Scorp. He eats away his feelings and thoughts with chocolate and ice cream.”

Potter burst out laughing. “Really? I wouldn’t think so. He is so collected, all the time!”  
“Only because he devours kilos of chocolate when he’s alone,” Aquila swore. “Every emotion has a different flavour. When he’s happy, he eats white hazelnut, because it’s ‘heaven on earth’, according to him. When he’s sad, he takes milk. When he feels smug and satisfied, he wants to spoil himself and chooses wafer cookies filled with cookie dough and covered with white chocolate. He’s so predictable.”

Albus laughed again, going to Scorpius in order to drag him away from the chocolate stall. Draco sighed sadly and followed them. While the five Malfoys and three Potter children were walking away, Potter quickly bought three pounds of chocolate, in almost every flavour available. If he could make Draco happy with a Christmas present made of chocolate, he wouldn’t let that opportunity pass.

It had turned dark now, and James and Phi were starting to get hungry. At one of the stalls, Potter bought nine portions of chips, which was something the Malfoys had never eaten before. Seeing them eat something so basic, was an experience Potter wouldn’t forget very soon. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise, and after his portion was gone, he proceeded to steal chips from Potter, thinking Potter didn’t notice, until Potter just gave the left-overs to Draco.

The smile he got in thanks was worth the sacrifice of giving up food.

The stalls were lit-up with red, green and blue lights. Potter led the way over the Christmas market towards the Thames.

It took Draco’s breath away. On the other side of the river, the London Eye was winking at them, luring them in. The Big Ben was brightly lit and stood proudly against the night sky, and Westminster Abbey looked as stately as a church possibly could.

While the children ran towards the river to look at the London Eye and the moving water, Potter and Draco remained standing where they were.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Potter asked. “Everyone should have seen this at least once in their life.”  
“So beautiful,” Draco agreed.  
“You should go inside Westminster Abbey one day. A few fantastic historical people were buried there. It’s worth the entrance money, if you’re into such things.”

Draco smiled. “I will. I am. It’s wonderful. The Wizarding community misses out on so much!”  
“I’ll tell Hermione you said that, so she can use you to convince other Pureblood families of the worth of Muggles.”  
“Sure, whatever you say,” Draco said, still under the spell of how it looked.

Potter threw a look over his shoulder, seeing Albus and Scorpius laughing behind their hands. “Come on, we should join them again. Wouldn’t want to lose one of them, would we?”  
“Can we lose Cassie? She is far too sharp for my comfort,” Draco joked.

Being complete again, they continued their walk into the centre of London, sightseeing a bit and strolling along other stalls. Draco had absentmindedly picked up Cassie, carrying her on his back. She leaned heavily against him, her breathing indicating that she is close to falling asleep. James, Aquila and Lily had fallen quiet, only looking at the goodies, while Albus and Scorpius were still full of energy, just not as loud anymore.

Ophiuchus sighed softly, prompting Potter to start carrying him on his arm. It isn’t long before Phi fell asleep as well, curling up against Potter’s chest.

“Perhaps it’s time to go home,” Potter smiled at Draco. They called the five remaining children closer so they could walk home without missing someone.

At Grimmauld Place, they put the children to bed without much fuss. Albus and Scorpius were the only ones that put up a bit of a fight, but when Draco promised them –behind Potter’s back- that they could continue talking, they didn’t mind that much anymore. Draco cast a strong Silencing Charm on their room which would deactivate when they fell asleep and closed the door behind him, seeing that the small _Lumos_ Scorpius had cast, wasn’t visible in the hallway.

Cassie was turning around in her bed, not able to sleep, until Draco gave her a soft peck on the forehead and created a tiny light, a replica of the light she had in her bedroom at home and at Hogwarts.

When Draco came back downstairs, Potter appeared from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Potter explained, even though Draco had eagerly grabbed it without question. He sipped from the hot drink, humming softly to himself when it turned out to be perfect. Made the Muggle way, too.

“Can you help me with the last preparations?” Potter asked. “I need to wrap a few more presents, bake some cookies so I can glaze them tomorrow morning and start on a stew for the evening. Please?”

“If it’s necessary. What should we do first?”  
“The cookies. If those aren’t finished tonight, James will be devastated. They’re just regular vanilla cookies.”  
“I can do that. How many do you want?”

Potter smiled beatifically. “Three batches. So we might need to do it together.”  
Sighing, Draco grabbed the two bowls from where Potter pointed, and combined the ingredients. Since Potter apparently didn’t have a mixer, they had to knead the dough with their hands. Which was fine, really, because that’s the way Draco also did it.

“Do you bake often?” Potter asked, while throwing the dough around like he didn’t have a care in the world.  
“Sometimes. It’s soothing.”  
“You think? I hate it,” Potter groaned. “I only do it for the children.”  
“Of course you hate it, it needs patience and following instructions, neither of which you are very good at.”

Potter laughed. “Point taken. Is it okay if I put some music on? It makes this whole baking thing much more bearable.”

He moved to the radio, turning on a Muggle station that was playing the cheesiest Christmas songs.

 _“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away,_ ” Potter cried falsely and completely out of rhythm. Draco threw a handful of flour at him to make him stop.

“If you’re going to sing, sing like you mean it,” he demanded laughingly. Potter put down the ball of dough he had been kneading and looked Draco straight in the eye. When he had caught Draco’s gaze, he started dancing abominably while increasing his volume of singing.

“Potter, please!” Draco snickered. “You’re torturing my eyes!”  
“Now you know how I felt when you started dancing on _I Will Survive_ ,” Potter grinned.

Draco let out an affronted gasp. “I’ll have you know that my dancing is incredible. _Especially_ when I’m dancing on _I Will Survive_.”  
“No, it wasn’t. It hurt my brain to look at you.”  
“That’s because you were flabbergasted with my skills.”  
“Prove it,” Potter challenged.

Draco put down the dough and turned to face Potter fully. “You want me to prove my skills?”  
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

Slowly, Draco walked up to Potter to stare him down. When Potter only kept grinning, Draco opened his fist above Potter’s head and let the flour drizzle over his hair.

“What, you –“ Potter started. He grabbed the bag of flour and started throwing pinches towards Draco, who ducked away every time.

“You will pay for that!”  
“Not my hair, not my hair, not my –“

Potter tore the bag fully open and grabbed Draco in a tight hold, letting the entirety of the flour fall on top of Draco’s head.

“You ruined my hair,” Draco moaned pathetically, when Potter threw away the bag and Draco was completely covered with white.  
“You deserved it.”  
“Truce?”

Potter nodded, starting to wipe away some of the flour from Draco’s face. “I think I may have ruined your vest.”

Looking down, Draco saw how the Glamoured hoodie was now stained with flour. The Glamour started to flicker because of this interruption of magic, which caused a speck of red to appear from time to time in the blue of the vest he had glamoured it in.

“I’ll need to clean this when I’m home,” Draco laughed softly.  
“Yeah. You also need a shower.”  
“I guess. Could I…?”

Potter smiled. “Of course. But we really need to finish the cookies first.”  
“Ugh, fine. We need good conversation to keep us concentrated, though.”  
“Okay. Oh! Did you know Charlie has acquired a very rare dragon species? He sent us a picture, it’s a beautiful kind.”

Draco raised an eyebrow while he pressed the dough onto the griddle. “Again, how much contact do you think I have with Charlie Weasley? You’ve been talking about him like you think I see him every day.”

“Well, he _is_ a dragon tamer, isn’t he?” Potter teased. “And you seem to like them ginger and freckly.”  
Draco scoffed. “You don’t have the right to judge that; you were married to Ginny for how long?”  
“I never said I _didn’t_ have a thing for freckly gingers. I mentioned before how good-looking Charlie has become. In fact, I may have a crush on him.”  
“Have? As in present tense, Potter?” Draco grinned wickedly. “Oh my, does Ginny know you were crushing on her brother while you were married?”  
“I came out as gay at the end of our marriage, I don’t think she would be very surprised if I told her this. But having a crush doesn’t mean anything. You can have a crush when you’re in a committed relationship.”

Draco frowned. “I don’t think that’s quite how it works.”  
“No, really. A crush is nothing serious, you don’t pursue a crush. Only when you start fancying someone while in a committed relationship, _then_ you need to think about what it means. A crush is just… a crush.”  
“So is it a crush when you’re sort of nervous to be around them, or when you want to spend the entire day with them?”

Looking up, Potter seemed to observe Draco. “It depends. A crush is more from a distance, more detached than fancying. I’d say if you want to spend the entire day with someone, it could either be a very strong crush, or you could like someone. Why? Do you have someone in mind?”

Draco shook his head. “No, of course not. I was just wondering.”  
“Malfoy, you can tell me. I’ve heard that I’m quite good in giving advice.”  
“No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking. Can I put this in the oven?”

Potter smiled faintly, while grabbing the griddle and placing it in the oven.

“Can you wrap the last presents while I start on the stew?” he asked, explaining where the wrapping paper and the gifts could be found.

Soon, Draco was wrapping the presents as neat as Potter could never achieve himself and the stew was simmering on the fire. Grabbing a book to read, Potter dropped down opposite of Draco and started reading, the silent, domestic sounds calming him enough to have read a good portion before they both went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments lead to cutesie little Christmas presents for and from Draco :D
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm lonely: i-am-and-proud


	29. Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this is a rubbish chapter. I don't have enough time to think about how to formulate things, with all these festivities.
> 
> And I'm late, I guess it isn't even Christmas for most of you anymore. It's past midnight for me as well, meaning it's officially Boxing Day, but we'll just pretend it's still Christmas, 'kay? 
> 
> There will be another chapter tomorrow, so keep an eye on your mailbox!

When Draco woke up, it was to see a bright _Lumos_ where Cassie was sitting up against the headboard and reading a book. It was pitch black outside, the faint light of the moon peeking through the curtains.

“Cassie,” Draco said gravelly. “What time is it?”  
“About six o’clock,” Cassie shrugged.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“Oh, I woke up because Harry was going downstairs, and he said I wasn’t allowed to go with him. And I wanted to read, but I didn’t want to wake Lills or ‘Quila.”  
“So you woke me instead?” Draco asked, slowly waking up and stretching.  
Cassie laughed. “I thought you wouldn’t mind as much, seeing as you never sleep very deep or very late. You aren’t angry, are you?”

Groaning when Draco saw it was only 5.31 AM, he rubbed his eyes to wake fully. “’Course not,” he mumbled. “Why is Potter already awake?”  
“He wouldn’t tell me.”  
Draco groaned again, but stepped out of bed to grab some casual robes and change in the en-suite. After fixing his hair until it looked less like he had just rolled out of bed, he went downstairs to see whether Potter needed some help.

“Morning.”  
“Hey,” Potter smiled at him, standing at the –beautifully decorated- Christmas tree and placing some presents under it. “Did you sleep well?”  
Draco hummed. “You?”  
“Very well, thanks. Why are you up so early?”

Plumping down on the chair closest to the tree, Draco looked longingly at Potter’s cup of tea. “You woke Cassie.”

Potter grinned apologetically, moving to the kitchen and returning with another steaming mug, offering it to Draco. “And she woke you?”  
“She wanted to read, and she thought Lily and Aquila wouldn’t take it well if she cast a _Lumos_ in their bedroom.”  
“I should have known she would wake up. Sorry.”  
“No worries.”

Draco looked around, seeing that the half of the cookies were already glazed, albeit horrifically done. “So why are you up?”  
“Couldn’t sleep. And I had to put the presents under the tree, glaze the cookies, start baking the turban, you know, the lot. Before breakfast.”  
“Do you need some help?”

Smiling, Potter pointed at the baked cookies on the table. “If you could finish glazing them, that would be fantastic. Then I’ll start on the turban.”

Draco picked up the different colours of glaze, snorting at the sight. Red, green, yellow and blue. He would have to get creative with which figures he would glaze, since Potter had only done Christmas trees.

He was finished just as the children started to wake and Potter finished up the turban. Draco was quite proud of his creation: presents, Santa hats and even a few deformed reindeers.

“Can we open the presents now?” James called, before he had hit the last steps of the stairs. “Oh you made cookies!”

Grabbing one, he kneeled in front of the tree and observed the presents underneath. Lily joined him. “They’re not wrapped by you, dad,” she said. “Did Draco wrap them?”  
“Yes, he did. I can see it in the way the corners are folded,” Scorpius noticed, sitting down at the dining table with Albus, both nicking a cookie from the griddle before Draco could stop them.

Cassie slowly walked down, still reading the book, and sunk down into the sofa.

“Cassie, it’s not very sociable to read when everyone else is downstairs,” Draco reminded her.  
“Not everyone’s down yet,” she responded absently. “I’ll put it away when the others are here too.”

A burst of colourful magic preceded Aquila’s arrival. The magic manifested in fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, bathing the living room in cosy colours. When Potter walked in with the completely finished turban, he smiled at the lights and waved the main lamps off, making the fairy lights and the tree lights the only illumination.

“James, no cookies for you if you don’t get away from the presents this second. And where did you leave Ophiuchus?”

James pouted, but scooted backwards and sneakily took another glazed cookie from the griddle. “Phi wanted to wear something special, but he couldn’t find it,” he said with a full mouth.  
“Not very polite, James, to talk with your mouth full. Do you know what he was looking for?” Draco asked.  
“Nope. Didn’t tell.”

At that moment, a frustrated cry came from upstairs, accompanied by a loud rattling and a bang that Draco recognised at accidental magic gone wrong. Draco was climbing the stairs before the others had realised that something was wrong.

“Phi? ‘Phiuchus, is everything all right?” Draco inquired gently, knocking on the door before entering. Phi was sat on the extra mattress, crying and holding a ripped cloth. The small wooden night stand had combusted.

“Love, what happened?” Draco sat down next to Phi on the mattress to inspect the ripped cloth.  
“I wanted to do something fun,” Phi sobbed, more angry than sad. “And then it happened again.”  
“What happened again?”

Phi pushed himself in Draco’s embrace. “Nothing, I was just being stupid,” he mumbled.  
“Has this happened before?”  
“Accidental magic happens to the best of us.”  
“Ophiuchus,” Draco sighed. “What are you keeping from me?”

Pulling himself away slightly, Phi looked at Draco with a wobbling lip. “Don’t get angry.”  
“Why would I be angry?” Draco worried.  
“You know the duel, when Harry conjured that snake?” At Draco’s nod, Phi stared at the mattress between them and frowned. “Do you remember how furious I was? I could hurt Harry at that point. I really wanted to.”  
“Phi –“

Suddenly, Draco recalled the inhuman snarl on his son’s face and the low, dangerous growl he had emitted.

“Are you saying that that had happened before?” Draco whispered, partly because he couldn’t quite understand what it meant and because he didn’t want to scare Ophiuchus.

Phi’s answer wasn’t surprising. He affirmed it and explained that it mostly happened when he was very angry or when someone had offended his siblings.

“I don’t know what it is, papa. I can’t stop it,” Phi sniffled into Draco’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t do anything about it.”  
“Ssh, don’t be sorry,” Draco shushed him. “We’ll find out, all right? We’ll find out what it is. I have a lot of books on metamorphmagus abilities. We’ll find out.”

Phi nodded slowly.

“Let’s celebrate Christmas now, yes? The others are waiting for you, and we’ve got cookies and a turban. You can breakfast with cookies!”

Laughing, Phi sat up. “What about the night stand?”  
Draco shrugged and cast a _Reparo_ at it. The wood splinters melded together, not taking long before the small wooden block was fixed again.

Downstairs, the Potters and Malfoys had put on a movie, pausing it until Draco and Phi had returned. Draco pushed the two best looking cookies in his son’s hands and directed him to one of the chairs in front of the television.

Draco sat himself down next to Potter, on the two chairs that faced the wall rather than the television.

“How did you get the television to work in this house?” Draco asked, when the first scenes of _Love Actually_ started playing.  
“Magic,” Potter grinned. “Just a few charms and spells thrown over the telly and the area where it’s standing.” He indicated that Draco should be quiet and stared intently at the videos of people at Heathrow Airport hugging each other. All Potters whooped when the first ‘actually’ was said.

Draco chuckled. “How often have you seen this movie?”  
“Once a year, at least,” Potter responded immediately.  
“Why?!”  
“Because it’s a good movie. What, you don’t like it?”  
“I’ve never seen it,” Draco said sullenly. “My children have, but I never. I was too busy being polite to our guests.”

Potter’s head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. “No way.”  
“Well, yes.”

Immediately, Potter made Draco sit down in Potter’s former chair, which had a marginally better view at the screen. “Be silent and watch,” Potter ordered. He disappeared to later come back with a kettle of tea and enough mugs for everyone, handing Draco the one in which he had had his hot chocolate and the tea of that morning.

Draco didn’t react when Potter pushed the mug in his hands. Only when Potter sat down, Draco leaned over to him.  
“Why didn’t you tell me that Hugh Grant and Colin Firth played in this movie?”  
“Is that your type?” Potter grinned.  
“Ye- Oh shit, Alan Rickman, too?”

Potter laughed heartily, earning a few dirty glares from the children. “You do have a type!”  
“Yes, rich, handsome and famous. Isn’t that everyone’s type?” Draco shot back.  
“But at Hogwarts, that certain _crush_ of yours wasn’t rich or famous yet.”

Draco scowled. “Shut your gob,” he muttered.  
“Don’t you think Colin is hot?” Potter said, talking about the character Colin from _Love Actually_.  
“No, I don’t. He’s… no, sorry, he’s not really for me.”  
“I would’ve thought he was. You seem to like them tall, ginger and freckly.”  
“Potter!” Draco hissed. “You keep saying that, but I can guarantee that it’s years ago. All right?”

Potter cackled. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll behave. I still can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie, though.”

Draco didn’t answer, looking at the screen, where Mark was doing his romantic love confession to Juliet. Potter smiled at the transfixed expression on Draco’s face.

“Stop staring,” Draco whispered.  
“I wasn’t.”  
“Then stop lying to yourself.”  
“I’m not. Anymore,” Potter added under his breath.  
“Look at the television.”  
“I am.”  
“You’re looking at me.”  
“No, I’m not,” Potter said with a grin, still looking at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned his head to face Potter. “What do you want?”  
“Your reactions are fun to watch.”  
“Thanks. But staring is really creepy.”

Potter leaned back in his chair, resting his head against it. “Even from me?” he pouted, fluttering his eyelashes jokingly.  
Draco grinned. “Yes, even from you, Your Highness.”  
“So now you admit that I have a higher position than you do?”  
“The only thing I’m admitting is that you behave like a petty princess. Hence, Your Highness.”  
“That doesn’t even make sense. I wasn’t behaving like any kind of princess.”

Draco closed his eyes for a second to control his laughter. “You seemed to like it when I kissed your knuckles before, so I really think you are a princess,” he argued.  
Potter blushed lightly. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

When _Love Actually_ had finished, the Potter children pushed a different movie in, while Potter started working on dinner. The entire day was spend by watching cliché Christmas movies and nicking sweets and cookies from the table, relishing the good smells coming from the kitchen.

“Don’t you have a house-elf?” Draco questioned at a certain point, leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass of red wine, watching Potter work.  
“Kreacher, yes.”  
“Why don’t you let him cook?”

Potter laughed softly. “It’s a constant fight between us. I don’t want him doing the dishes or the laundry, and he hates it when I do chores. But we agreed that I am allowed to cook on days like Christmas, if he can do the dishes. It’s a delicate balance.”

“And do you clean, or does Kreacher do that?”  
“Both a bit. I make sure my own bedroom is cleaned, and I try to get the children to clean their own, but Kreacher does the rest. I’m not sure I would be able to keep a house like this proper without Kreacher. I’d be too chaotic to do it on my own.”  
Draco chuckled. “I can see that.”

Potter smiled in response. He took a small spoon, dipped it in the chocolate and then in the crushed pistachio, holding it out in front of Draco’s mouth. “Taste it.”

Draco eyed the spoon. After he had decided that molten chocolate could never be wrong, he opened his mouth to take the proffered bite. Humming in bliss while he let the still-warm chocolate dominate his senses.

“That’s really good,” he said softly, opening his eyes to see Potter smiling proudly.  
“Is it? Normally, I use a combination of pure and milk chocolate, but I thought, just for you, I would skip the pure and choose white instead. Do you like it?”  
“I really do. It’s so sweet. Can I have more?”

Potter grinned. “No, we have to save some for desert. I don’t have much.”  
“Just one more spoonful? One spoonful can’t have that much of an influence, can it?” Draco cajoled, moving closer to subtly grab the spoon from Potter’s hands.

Potter, however, was still quick enough to prevent Draco from getting complete control over the spoon. They now held it together, using both hands to try and rip it away from the other’s grip.

“Potter, I just want a bit more.”  
“No, you petulant bastard.”  
“Come on, give me one good reason.”  
“I need everything for desert!”  
“You shouldn’t have given me a taste if you didn’t want me to beg for the rest.”  
“So you’re begging now?” Potter teased.  
“What do I have to do? I’d do anything to just get a drip of chocolate, you know it.”

Potter laughed, a soft, gentle sound Draco had before only heard when Potter was talking to one of his children. “I didn’t know, but now I do. Still, though, you can’t get more.”  
“You sure? I can arrange for you to get the newest Firebolts, you know. Or a very expensive bottle of Firewhiskey?”  
“I can buy expensive stuff myself, thanks.”  
“Then something I can’t buy. I can make you the treacle tart you liked so much, with pumpkin in it.”  
“I can bake that myself as well. You’ll have to come up with something better.”

Narrowing his eyes in an attempt to read Potter, Draco gave a few tugs on the spoon, only causing Potter to take a small step closer in order to gain his balance.

“Potter…” Draco whined, completely letting go of his inhibitions, because chocolate.  
“No.”  
“Anything, anything at all. Just one more spoonful. It doesn’t even have to be a spoonful, it can also be a few drips. A fingertip. I need chocolate.”  
“You’ll survive until desert.”  
“I’m not sure I will. I think I might die if I don’t get my chocolate. I could pass out. Do you want to have that on your conscience?”  
“You really are an overdramatic git, aren’t you? I’m starting to believe that _you_ are the princess, not me.”

Draco frowned, letting go of the spoon. “I’m not a princess.”  
“Yes, you are. A spoiled princess.”  
“If I was spoiled, I would get chocolate.”  
“You do realise you sound like a five-year-old, right?”  
“I do not.”  
“Yes, you do.”  
“Am not.”  
“Are too.”  
“Well, chocolate just makes the inner child happy. I want chocolate.”

At least Potter could be sure that his Christmas present would be welcomed wholeheartedly.

“You’ll have chocolate at desert.”  
“Potter, honestly, your creation is _divine_. I don’t know what you did with it, but I’m addicted and I need my chocolate right now or I’ll go crazy. You can’t dangle chocolate right in front of me and tease me with it, but refuse to follow up. It hurts, all right? It feels like betrayal. You’re betraying me.”  
“I’m glad you like what I made.”  
“ _Potter_ ,” Draco groaned.

Laughing, Potter dipped the spoon in the chocolate, enjoying the way Draco’s eyes started to twinkle.

“This is your last bite before desert, Malfoy. No more whining, no more begging. Understood?”  
Draco scowled. “I wasn’t _begging_.”  
“If you weren’t begging, I suppose you don’t want this. I’ll eat it then,” Potter shrugged, raising the spoon to his own lips.

Lightning-quick, Draco grabbed his wrist and took the bit of chocolate for himself. “Merlin, this should be illegal,” he murmured. “What even _is_ this?”  
Potter laughed, throwing the spoon in the sink and lowering the fire beneath the chocolate. “White and milk chocolate, mixed with a bit of caramel and some herbs. It’s especially good with the ice cream I bought.”  
“You’re spoiling us.”

With a grin, Potter resumed cooking the main course of dinner. “Well, everything for the princess, right?”

Dinner was fantastic, which wasn’t a surprise, given the amount of hours Potter had put in it. Even though the appetisers and main course were very good, Draco couldn’t wait for desert. The duck in cranberry sauce was sweet and perfectly cooked, but the only thing Draco wanted was the chocolate mixture he had tasted before. Potatoes from the oven were fine and all, but they weren’t white and milk chocolate with caramel.

He was practically buzzing out of his chair when Potter disappeared to fix desert. Draco explained to the amused children that there was chocolate in it, causing Scorpius to perk up enthusiastically.

When Potter returned and had passed out the desert, Draco noticed with dismay that his ice cream didn’t have any chocolate sauce at all. Potter’s didn’t, either.

“Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough sauce for all of us. I must have mistaken the amount. Sorry,” Potter said apologetically to their children, who all had only a small bit of sauce over their ice cream.

For some reason, Potter winked at Draco, smiled and started eating his ice cream. Draco did too, only with much less eagerness than he had shown before.

After dinner, it was –finally- time for presents. They gathered round the tree, James on the floor to choose which gifts to go next. He started with a present for Ophiuchus, one that Draco didn’t recognise. Potter, next to him, was doing a terrible job of hiding his pleased smile when Phi burst out laughing after tearing the wrapping paper apart. It was a calendar called ‘Handbook for the Metamorphmagus Wizards and Witches,’ in which every day held an anecdote of metamorphmaguses.

The next present was one from Draco for Aquila, the Quidditch protections he had bought. They were quite pretty and the charm work was expertly done.

Scorpius had bought Albus a notebook that falsely played a few Celestina Warbeck songs.

Albus loved the Snitch pyjamas Draco had gotten for him, although Albus thought it was another one of Scorpius’s presents, since Albus and Scorpius had an inside joke about Snitch pyjamas. He smiled brightly at Draco when he heard it had been Draco’s gift, though.

Cassie was ecstatic when she unwrapped the new broomstick from Draco and Scorpius immediately tugged his new Quidditch protections on.  
Lily then opened her present from Potter, which was a hand-painted globe to put on her desk. Draco got a new Muggle tie from his children, with a snake pattern on it.

When a large gift appeared from under the tree and it turned out to be for Ophiuchus, Draco excused himself to go to where the owls were kept. He heard Phi’s unbelieving cries and smiled. Coming back down with a large snow owl on his arm, Draco had difficulty to remain standing because Phi had flown at him to thank him extensively.

“She’s yours,” Draco smiled broadly.  
“I’ll call her Hettywings!” Phi called. “That’s a good name, isn’t it?” He opened the door on the cage he had just unwrapped and let Draco put her in, giving her a bit of food and water and placing her in a corner of the room to protect her from the wildness around the Christmas tree.

They then proceeded with more presents, one of which was for James, from Potter. James couldn’t believe his eyes and blinked up at Potter and Draco, not sure who he should thank. In his hands was a book with all the information one could find about the Potter, Evans and Weasley families, including genealogy, achievements and well-known facts.

Scorpius believed he had entered heaven when he opened the notebook and quills from Scrivenshaft’s he had been eyeing the entire year. Aquila had to be torn away from the book about Patronuses and their meanings.

Cassie placed her new chocolate fondue set on the table, ready to be used whenever she had a bit of time.

Phi crawled on Draco’s lap and stayed there after he had gotten his last present, a silver necklace with the official Malfoy crest on it.

When James reached out to a rectangular package Draco knew was for Potter, he interrupted hastily.

“No! It’s better if Potter opened that one when he’s alone,” Draco explained. “At least, that’s what I heard from Santa.”

Potter chuckled, then pointed to another present with his name on it. Opening it slowly and taking care not to rip the paper apart, the ornamental Snitch Draco had bought him revealed itself, fluttering out of the paper and staying in front of Potter’s face.

“Wow,” Potter whispered, taking the Snitch from the air and inspecting it from all angles. “It’s really beautiful. Where did you get this?” he asked, turning to Draco.  
Draco shrugged. “Flea market,” he chuckled. “Somewhere around Diagon Alley, there’s this tiny little alley leading to a grand courtyard with a few high-end restaurants and the flea market I bought it.”  
“It’s incredible. Thank you,” Potter breathed.

Then, suddenly, Draco had a gift in his hands. Upon seeing the bucket load of chocolate, he started laughing. Scorpius scooted closer to see which flavours he had gotten and Draco popped a first piece in his mouth. “Best Christmas gift ever,” he grinned.

A bit later, he got another present, which turned out to be a locket with pictures of his children and parents in it. Draco squeezed Potter’s shoulder in thanks, sparing no words for something he wouldn’t even be able to verbalise.

Everyone was more than satisfied with their presents, Phi going over to Hettywings to make sure she was all right many times, before he went to bed. Potter and Draco remained with the two of them and an entire pot of tea.

“Can I open my other present now?” Potter asked softly. Draco laughed, handing him the present.  
“I don’t know if you’ll appreciate it, but I just think… I hope you like it, and otherwise, you can just pretend it never happened. Thank you and please.”

Potter ripped apart the paper, uncovering five beautiful picture frames, including pictures. The upper one was a picture of Potter’s children, all three of them smiling at the camera and sticking out their tongues.

The second was a chaotic flurry of Weasleys who were trying to cram their entire family in one frame, causing a lot of laughter and blurred movements, until the final frame finally showed all Weasleys somewhat orderly, before the chaos began again.

The third picture was of Potter, Hermione and Ron, their arms around each other and looking so incredibly relaxed and trusting. Draco loved that picture, personally. He really did.

The fourth was when tears began brimming at Potter’s eyes. It showed the four Marauders walking across the Hogwarts courtyard. Draco had found this one in a _Daily Prophet_ of 1975, when James, Sirius, Remus and Peter were in their fifth year. They waved nonchalantly at the camera, as if it was an everyday occurrence that they were photographed at school grounds.

The fifth picture, Draco had retrieved from Severus’s possessions. He had known Severus owned a couple photographs, and Draco had guessed that he also had this one, or something like it. A tear fell from Potter’s eyes, onto a scar on his right hand.

The picture showed James and Lily on their wedding day, standing in front of a blossoming tree and smiling so happily at the camera. They hugged each other tight, Lily wiping away a few wet tears of happiness.

“Thank you,” Potter’s voice sounded brokenly. “Thank you so much.”  
“It’s no problem,” Draco assured him. “You should have a whole lot of pictures of them. I’m only happy to help.”

Potter nodded a few times before he flung himself at Draco and pressed his nose in Draco’s neck. Draco automatically held him close.

“I really really like you, Malfoy. You’re a fantastic human being.”

Draco chuckled. “Aren’t I just?” he joked gently, rubbing Potter’s back until he calmed down a bit. “You aren’t so bad yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'ed and craving your comments :D  
> Comments are cool on AO3, or if you want, on Tumblr (also about any other thing you might want to talk about, because I love talking to people): i-am-and-proud


	30. Boxing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the holiday rush, so enjoy it! No more Christmas vibes after this. But this chapter is extra long ;D
> 
> And it's not Boxing Day anymore, but let's play pretend. I tried to upload on the correct days, but life got in the way. Sorry :(  
> Actually, I'm not sorry because I had fun, last couple of days, even with the writing stress. And all your comments were amazing, my mailbox actually crashed at a certain point because I've never had this much mail in one day.
> 
> And for everyone who's still wondering: YES they did almost kiss at Grimmauld Place :D
> 
> I hope you're still with me and enjoying it. Any tips? Leave them in the comments! I like to learn

The next day, Boxing Day, Draco was woken, again against his own wishes, by a more than enthusiastic Potter.

“Malfoy! Malfoy, wake up. I’ve got a surprise for you,” he grinned when Malfoy had pried his eyes open.  
“I don’t want a surprise, I want to sleep,” Draco grumbled.  
“You’ll like this though.”  
“I’m sure I won’t.”  
“You really suffer from morning moodiness, don’t you?”  
“Potter, just back off slowly and let me close my eyes again.”

Potter laughed, tugging on Draco’s arm and throwing the blanket away. “Trust me on this.”

Mumbling and groaning to express his displeasure, Draco dragged himself out of bed and trudged downstairs, still not sure whether he appreciated being woken at seven in the morning for a ‘surprise’.

When he saw Potter standing next to the couch with a large blanket, two mugs of tea and an almost hot pan with molten chocolate, Draco decided that he definitely liked this morning.

“You saved the chocolate,” he breathed softly, eyeing the mixture with interest.  
“Of course I have. I couldn’t let you endure such inhumanity, could I?”

Draco smiled and crawled under the blanket with Potter, tea and chocolate. “Fantastic, Potter. Pure and uncontaminated heaven on earth,” he hummed after the first bite. “Why did it have to be so early, though?”  
“Because otherwise James will wake up and see us eating this. And when that happens, we won’t have much chocolate anymore.”

Scooping up another fingertip, Draco nodded. “Understandable. Merlin, do you have _any_ idea what this does to me?”  
“Morning? Yes, morning makes you grumpy. I noticed.”  
“That’s not what I was talking about,” Draco scoffed.  
“Oh sorry. Were you talking about the chocolate then?”  
“Hmm.”

Potter laughed again at Draco, who had hogged the pan and was eating continuously now. “Apparently, you very much like chocolate.”  
“ _Yes_ , Merlin, this is so good.”  
“Give me some! You prat, I want some too,” Potter said while angling towards Draco to get closer to the chocolate.  
“Nuh-uh, get your own. This is mine now.”  
“You really become an irritating child around chocolate, don’t you?”

Draco sucked off his finger and nodded. “Yes, I am. Now go away, I’m eating.”  
“Mine,” Potter mumbled, grabbing the pan of chocolate and pulling it towards him. Draco fell over him in his effort to keep hold of it.

“You’ve had enough for now. You need to ration.”  
“No, I don’t. I want some more.”  
“You’ll only get what I give you,” Potter chuckled, holding out a tea spoon of chocolate.

Draco reluctantly took the bite, but a smile soon appeared at the taste. “Potter, did you use magic on this? This is far too good to be natural.”  
“Nope, just molten chocolate with caramel,” Potter said, offering another.  
“Why have you taken the chocolate away from me, but keep feeding me it? That isn’t how rationing works, Potter.”

Potter blushed faintly, presenting another spoon again, but not responding.

“Besides, the iron of the spoon doesn’t mix well with the rest of the chocolate, so I’d much rather use my fingers, thank you,” Draco rushed, trying to grab the spoon from Potter.  
“Nice try, you’re not getting the chocolate again.”

Draco pouted, but didn’t protest again, until sounds upstairs indicated that the children were awake. Potter quickly brought the spoon to the kitchen and hid the pan, in which only a bit of chocolate still remained. Just in time, because the three girls, Albus and Scorpius were thundering downstairs.

“Good morning. All ready to go to the Burrow today?” Potter asked, handing plates to James, who set the table for all of them. A chorus of yesses answered Potter’s question, making Draco smile in his mug of tea.

Cassie walked up to him, sinking down on the couch and wriggling under the blanket. “Morning,” she whispered, grabbing Draco’s mug of tea and taking a large sip.  
“Good morning, Cassiopeia. What’s with the cuddliness?” Draco whispered back. He threw an arm around her and pulled her close, earning a satisfied hum.  
“Just feel like it. Thanks for the tea, by the way.”  
“Sure, love, no problem,” Draco responded sarcastically.  
“So how was the chocolate sauce?”  
“The what?”  
“The chocolate sauce that was supposed to go over the ice cream last night? Was it good?”  
“How –“  
“You’ve still got a bit on your mouth,” Cassie giggled, wiping the chocolate away.

Draco rolled his eyes at her mothering and stood up to join the others at the table. Breakfast was a short affair, since they were a bit late and James and Phi still had to change out of their pyjamas.

“Hurry up, the Portkey’s activated in twenty minutes!” Potter called, sending the dishes to the kitchen for Kreacher.  
“Why do you use a Portkey? It’s not that far, is it?”  
Potter shrugged. “Not really, but I don’t have Muggle transport and apparating is impossible with so many of us.”  
“Floo?”  
“I don’t like the feeling, James gets dizzy and Lily often throws up. So we rather use Portkey.”

When everyone was ready and Draco had grabbed his backpack, they took hold of the Portkey, just before it was activated. They landed a few metres away from the Burrow. The Weasley children immediately opened the door, causing the Potter and Malfoy children to run towards them.

Draco remained standing where he was, looking up at the Burrow and trying to calm his nerves. This hadn’t been a good idea. He should just leave. It was wrong, so wrong. He couldn’t do this to the Weasley family. He couldn’t step in there and pretend nothing happened, laughing with George and discussing dragons with Charlie. He couldn’t do it.

Resolutely turning around, Draco shakily reached for his wand to Apparate away. The only thing stopping him was the warm weight of someone’s hand around his wrist, fingers curling around the Dark Mark.

Draco flinched.

“Where are you going?” Potter asked softly, twisting Draco around again.  
“I should go.”  
“Why? Is something wrong?”

Draco swallowed thickly. “ _This_ , Potter!” he said hoarsely. “ _This_ is what’s wrong. I can’t go in there. They don’t want me there. They feel sorry for my children, but I shouldn’t go in. It’s so wrong. Just let me leave.”  
“No, Malfoy, no. They want you too.”  
“Don’t pretend they’re all fine with this, Potter. I know they aren’t.”

Potter tugged him close by his wrist –where he was still curled around the Dark Mark without caring- and wrapped his other arm around Draco. “Malfoy – Ron likes you. George likes you. Hermione… well, Hermione has forgiven you. Molly herself extended the invitation. She told me that if you aren’t present today, I wouldn’t get any of her roast. They want to give you another chance, Malfoy. Like I did. Like Neville did.”

Draco rested his head on Potter’s shoulder.  
“I will help you through it, okay?” Potter sounded, when he noticed some of the tension had left Draco. “Come on.”

Partly letting go of Draco, the two of them moved towards the door, where Cassie had been waiting for them. Inside, Potter put his hand on the small of Draco’s back to guide him through the house, to the living room where everyone was sat, eating cake and drinking tea.

“So this is Charlie, Charlie, this is Draco,” Potter introduced casually.  
“Cool name,” Charlie grinned. Draco pasted a relaxed smile on his face and raised an eyebrow at Potter.  
“I see what you meant about him,” Draco mouthed silently at Potter, who snorted and shook his head.

“And Bill and Fleur.”  
Draco inclined his head at Bill before turning to Fleur. “Bonjour,” he greeted, feeling the slightest bit more comfortable because he could talk French.  
“Bonjour. Ça va?”  
“Ça va bien, merci. Et toi?”  
“Très bien,” Fleur answered.

“Percy and Audrey over here.”  
“Malf – Draco,” Percy acknowledged Draco, a bit stiff since they never had the most flattering conversations, back at Hogwarts.

Audrey smiled kindly and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”  
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Draco assured her.

“You know George, of course,” Potter said, not hiding his smug smirk. Draco scowled lightly at him before being enveloped in a one-armed hug from George. “Good to see you again, mate.”  
“Likewise.”

Angelina tugged George away playfully, and laughed at Draco. “Do you still play?”  
“What?”  
“Quidditch. Still a Seeker? We are in desperate need of a decent Seeker for our family matches.”

Before Draco could answer, an indignant sound came from the doorway. “Excuse me?” Ginny exclaimed. "I’m more than ‘decent’, you incompetent broom sweep.”

Angelina grinned at Ginny, who was striding towards Potter, giving him a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Hi Draco. Long time no see,” she said airily, as if they had been friends way back.  
“Hi. I believe congratulations are in order?” Draco asked, looking between Ginny and Dean.  
Ginny snorted. “Harry kept you updated.”  
“He knew this all by himself,” Potter interrupted. “I only reminded him who was with who, and even that wasn’t really necessary.”

Dean offered his hand at Draco, who took it eagerly. Pursing his lips in a smile, Dean nodded faintly, as if it was an unconscious move. Then, he pushed Ginny away to one of the couches.

Hermione breezed past, giving Potter a quick hug and Draco a pat on his shoulder. Ron, however, grabbed them in a bear hug.

“Draco, where’s Cass? Last time, our conversation was broken off, and she had such interesting things to say. Ah, there she is!”

Molly came out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands over her apron. “What is this noise? Oh, Harry, hello love.” When she saw Draco, she took a deep breath, eyeing him judgingly, while everyone else was chatting.

“Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for inviting us, my children have never looked forward to Boxing Day this much. They’re very grateful. And so am I,” Draco rambled, as poised as he could.

A pleased little smile appeared around Molly’s lips and she nodded, seemingly in acceptance of his speech. “You’re very welcome.”

“Draco Malfoy!” a booming voice sounded then. “What an honour to have you in our humble abode. Merry Christmas.”  
“Thank you, Mr. Weasley. The same to you, of course.”  
“Don’t be silly, call me Arthur.” Arthur leaned closer and placed a heavy hand on Draco’s shoulder, making Draco feel like a schoolboy about to being told of by one of the teachers. “You’ve always insulted our home, without ever having seen it. That made me angry. But now you’ve seen it, so if you feel the need to insult it, do so. Just don’t insult my family.” It seemed that Arthur was warning him, albeit with more humour and kindness than Draco felt he would ever be able to muster.

So Draco laughed a bit. “It seems I’ve been wrong about that all my life,” he admitted. “You’ve got a lovely home.”  
“Ah no, it’s really just a shack. But, you know, it’s…”  
“Home.”  
Arthur winked. “Exactly. Now, where are Victoire and Teddy? I want my presents!”

Draco froze. The only one who noticed was Potter, who still had his arm wrapped casually around Draco’s waist and peered curiously at Draco.

“We’re here, don’t worry. Ted just wanted to check on the owls!” a musical voice, lightly tinged with a French accent.

“You’re _Teddy Lupin_!” Ophiuchus called.

Draco stood with his shoulder towards Teddy and Victoire. He didn’t see much, except movement of green hair as Teddy probably looked at Phi.

“You’re a metamorphmagus,” Teddy said then.

Potter sighed softly, tapping Draco’s hip with two fingers in understanding.

“I am. I’ve heard so much about you, Teddy! You are really cool. You’re Harry’s godson, right?”  
“Yeah, I –“  
“I know, and you’re twenty-one years old now, right? I’m Ophiuchus Malfoy. I’m the youngest of my siblings, see that’s Cassie, or actually Cassiopeia, and that is Scorpius and Aquila. They’re the oldest, they’re a twin.”  
“Ah, okay. You must be Draco Malfoy’s son, then,” Teddy sounded thoughtfully.  
“I am. You know that about me? I know everything about you, I’ve heard a lot about you and your paren –“

Scorpius coughed pointedly, but so subtle that only the Malfoys picked up on it being fake. Phi turned his head slightly to show that he had understood and continued babbling to Teddy. After about forty-eight seconds –Draco had counted to keep himself occupied as he was catching his breath- Draco turned away from Potter’s presence and towards Phi and Teddy.

“Ficus, it’s not polite to lay a claim on someone. Let him talk to other guests as well,” Draco said, calmer than he felt. Phi smiled half-apologetically and half-sympathetically at the nickname Draco only used when he was thinking about bolting.

“It’s no trouble. I’ve never met another metamorphmagus, so I like talking to him,” Teddy said kindly, observing Draco as if determining his worth.  
“I’m glad. Phi’s never really talked to another metamorphmagus either, so he might start badgering you. But he will try not to, won’t he?” Draco asked, eyeing Phi sternly, who nodded before Draco was done talking.  
Teddy laughed. “I’ll be careful. I’m Teddy Lupin, by the way.”  
“Draco Malfoy.”

While Teddy looked at Phi, who was absently talking to Victoire and coloured his hair a dark kind of red, he smiled. “It seems like it runs in the family,” Teddy started, the first to address them being relatives. “Being a metamorphmagus.”

Draco also cast a look at Phi, but quickly focussed on Teddy again, noticing his typical Black nose and the eyes that seemed to know everything, which Draco recognised from his mother as well as from Bellatrix.

“Yes,” Draco answered. “It seems to be a family-thing.”

George called Draco, though, to sit somewhere so they could start exchanging presents. Draco went down to sit between Potter and George, earning a snicker from Potter and sending a glare in return. Everyone settled themselves in the living room, most children –even Victoire and Teddy- on the ground to be closest to the tree.

Presents were passed out, mostly given by one of the adult Weasleys and received by their siblings and the respective partners and children.

Draco had gotten Charlie Weasley a tiny little dragon that fit in the palm of his hand. Charlie couldn’t stop cooing at the animal for the rest of the animal, even using its small puffs of fire to light the candles.

Dean thanked him profusely for the high-quality paint set he had gotten, and Ginny grinned widely at the practice Quaffle. Angelina and Audrey appreciated their bath soaps and perfume. George got a wicked gleam in his eyes at seeing the _Potions and Pranks_ book Draco had found for him. Percy stuck his nose in the book _The Greatest Wizards of Wizarding History_ and didn’t resurface again that evening.

One gift, labelled to be for ‘Weasley spawn,’ created a bit of confusion. Draco cleared his throat and said, a little ashamedly, “I didn’t really know what to get for you as individuals. I just bought a present for the lot of you together. I hope that’s all right.”

Roxane laughed and reached to unwrap the present, but Fred, her brother, was quicker and teared the paper apart.

“Wizarding Twister!” he called out. “And a marble Wizarding Chess set! And even, oh look! Wizarding Monopoly!”

None of them seemed to mind that they had to share the gifts. The adult Weasleys all crammed together to take a look at the games, seemingly just as interested as the children.

The next gift Draco had provided was for Fleur, a romanticised biography of the most well-known Veela in history. She smiled politely, kissing Draco twice on the cheek. When she opened it to leaf through it and saw it was written in French, her smile became genuine. “Where did you get this book in French?” she asked, accent still strongly audible.

Draco shrugged. “It cost a couple arduous translation spells, but I managed to translate the entire book in French. I thought it would be more appreciated than that awful combination of vowels we call English.”

Bill tugged Fleur close as she was happily reading a few passages, until there was another present for Bill. Unwrapping the neat, burgundy paper, his eyebrows rose and his gaze slid from one to another, until it landed on Draco.

“This must be yours,” he said, holding up a copy of _The Curse-Breaker gifts: A collection of spells used by ancient Curse-Breakers_. Draco nodded slightly. “I can tell, because this book is nowhere to be found. Only in old family libraries,” Bill explained to his family.  
“It looks new,” Dean observed.  
“My family was never very interested in curse-breaking. We only had that book because, as Bill said, it was a must-have in every family library. Never used, never read. Which is why I deemed it all right to pass along.”

Chuckling, Bill mouthed a thanks while the rest continued their presents.

Ron had to laugh quite a bit upon seeing the title of the book he got, _How to Handle Your Successful Wife_. Hermione snickered, patting him on his back. Her present, the book _1001 Women That Made History_ , made her smile as well, until she turned it around.

Confusedly looking around, she traced her hand over the back cover. “This is a Muggle book,” she breathed. “Who went to a Muggle bookshop? Ron? Harry?” When both of them shook their heads, and the other Weasleys seemed just as dumbfounded as she was, she laid an assessing gaze on Draco. He nodded minutely.

“You went to a Muggle bookshop to buy me a Christmas present? But then Harry must have known. Since when are you able to keep secrets from me, Harry?”

Harry held up his hands. “I didn’t know anything about it. Why didn’t I know? I could have helped you around Muggle London, you know. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Draco.  
Draco scoffed, ignoring Cassie and Lily’s giggles. “Because you can’t keep secrets from Hermione, that’s why.”  
“Well, at least he knows Harry very well,” Ron snorted.  
“But then… did you go there by yourself?”  
“Merlin, no. I wouldn’t know what to do. I had my little helpers with me.”

All gazes were directed to Cassie and Lily, who were grinning broadly.

“Lily? Did you go to Muggle London with Malfoy?” Potter asked. Lily nodded, dissolving into giggles again.  
“She offered herself. I was planning on ordering it via internet, is that the word? Yes, so I wanted to order it via internet, but then Cass and Lily came up to me, telling me that they knew where to buy the book. They had, apparently, checked my search history. I know I should have told you, but I didn’t want Hermione to know what she was getting.”

Potter smiled. “It’s that I trust you, otherwise I wouldn’t have allowed it. I’ll talk to Lily later.”

The other Weasleys had turned their attention to the jumpers some were now unwrapping. Molly had only made jumpers for her children, not the grandchildren or partners, because that was too much of a hassle for her. Harry was, in this case, included with the ‘children’, so he, too, received a Weasley jumper.

Arthur was next in unwrapping his present, which was a Muggle Gameboy Draco had acquired somewhere and adapted to resist magic.

The high of the evening was the last present, a gift for Molly. She laughed wetly.

“Who did this?” she questioned, holding up a knitted piece of clothing that looked suspiciously like a Weasley jumper. When Draco owned up to it, she sent him a piercing gaze before she smiled. “And was it ordered or hand-made?”  
“Well,” Draco started. “I heard that the hem usually holds the clues to that question. And in this case, I believe it is quite clear that this jumper was made by someone who only learned how to knit about two days ago.”

Molly inspected the hem, while the others were laughing.

“Why would you give _Molly Weasley_ a Weasley jumper? What is that twisted logic?” George snickered.  
Draco smirked. “Tell me, George, how many Weasley jumpers you have?”  
“About forty or something?”  
“And how many does your mother have?”  
George knitted his brow together, realisation dawning. “She has none.”  
“Exactement. And _that_ is why someone would give her a Weasley jumper.”

Right before dinner, everyone changed in their Weasley jumpers, including Molly. She grinned proudly whenever someone looked at it and thanked Draco multiple times.

After dinner, Draco slumped down on the couch. Potter sat down as well, mentioning how tired Draco looked. “You know you can just doze a bit, they don’t mind,” Potter said.

A few protests later, Draco half-lied on the couch with closed eyes and an arm thrown above his head, humming a soft tune. When Molly’s voice sounded, he shot up and sat ram-rod straight, causing Potter to grab his stomach from laughter.

“No need, love, just lie down. Everyone does it here. You’re as white as a sheet. Do you sleep enough?” Molly tutted, handing both Potter and him a bowl with the left-overs from desert. Draco and Potter shared a look before they dug in the sweetness.

Somewhat later, Draco sat in the corner of the couch, a bit diagonally, arm resting on the arm rest. Aquila snuggled in between the arm rest and Draco, leaning close to him. Moments later, Phi imitated a few other Weasley children by climbing on the back of the couch. He wriggled his feet under Aquila’s bum and sunk down on his calves, so that he occupied a tiny space and could duck under Draco’s arm as well. Scorpius and Cassie sat down on the ground in front of Draco. Cassie leaned on Draco’s legs and Scorpius against the couch, supporting Aquila feet on his shoulders, so that she too was curled up.

Draco was able to reach Scorpius’s head with his hand and left it there, lightly playing with his hair, while Cassie tapped a rhythm on his shoe.

“Are you some kind of human pillow?” Charlie joked when he joined them in the living room.  
Draco laughed. “Something like that, yeah. Pansy and Blaise usually clamber all over me. It’s all right, though. It’s nice and warm.”

“In that case…” Potter plopped down on the couch, with his head in Draco’s lap and his legs stretched out over Ron and Hermione.  
“Oof. Potter, honestly?”  
Potter only grinned up at Aquila, who shook her head fondly and muttered something about foolish Gryffindors.

The evening passed pleasantly, Draco becoming more comfortable by the minute. At a certain point, Potter had sat up slightly, pulling his legs closer and leaned his back on Draco, causing the latter to turn even more in his seat so they were almost back to chest. Draco’s arm dangled awkwardly from the back of the couch.

“That doesn’t seem very relaxed,” Potter said, nodding to Draco’s arm.  
Draco shrugged. “It’s fine.”  
“Prat. I won’t think any less of you if you put that somewhere easier.”

Smiling, Draco lightly placed his hand on the outside of Potter’s thigh. It did relieve his shoulder. Potter patted his chest. “Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”  
“Don’t act like a smug child, it doesn’t become you, _princess_ ,” Draco returned. Potter rumbled a laugh, leaning his head back on Draco’s shoulder and closing his eyes contently.

“I didn’t know you two already were in a relationship,” Ron commented a few minutes later. Although Draco felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, Potter only chuckled. “I just like to cuddle with people,” he smiled at Ron, opening his eyes a bit. “Normally I’d do this with ‘Mione or Charlie, but you always complain that I’m stealing Hermione, and Draco is actually warm, as opposed to Charles.”

“So you aren’t dating?” Victoire asked curiously. At Potter’s shake of his head, she pouted. “Pity. Would’ve been nice to include every bit of Black blood in our family.”  
“You’re doing a terrific job yourself,” Fred II grinned, causing a heated debate to erupt between at least three groups of Weasleys.

Potter used the distraction to slouch a bit, one leg dangling from the couch and the other pulled up. Draco’s arm was not lying relaxed against his thigh anymore because of this move switch, so Draco replaced it across Potter’s stomach without thinking much of it.

The conversation turned political, engaging Draco, Aquila and Scorpius in the passionate discussion. Potter, meanwhile, had zoned out and was completely focussed on Draco.

He knew Draco liked him. That had become more than clear in the last couple of weeks. He wondered how far he could go before Draco would realise it had gotten more-than-friendly. Perhaps they could hold hands, before Draco shied away again. Potter would like that very much, to hold Draco’s hand. He loved – the physical closeness they had. Maybe, with all these cosy Christmas vibes, Potter could finally get Draco to talk about the possibility of a relationship.

Potter eyed Draco’s hand on his stomach and then his own hand that was lying next to him on the couch. Draco’s hand dangled a bit, because Potter was lying sideways. Moving slowly, gingerly, he was able to get his hand so close to Draco’s that they touched lightly –it could barely be called a touch- with a deep inhale of Potter. Of course, Potter started taking deeper breaths from then.

Draco didn’t move his hand, didn’t show in any way that he noticed or thought it any more than accidental.

So, Potter moved a bit closer. His thumb and pointer finger hovered over Draco’s ring finger and pinkie at Potter’s inhale, and faintly stroked over them at his exhale. With lightning speed, Draco removed his hand and placed it on Potter’s thigh again, where it was so distinctly uncomfortable that Draco’s entire chest tensed with keeping it there against gravity.

Potter’s heart sunk. He may have read Draco wrong then, Pansy and the children may have been wrong. When Potter scooted his hand a bit upwards to tap Draco’s thigh, he had unwrapped himself from the five bodies leaning on him and stood up.

“I’m going to take a breath outside,” he announced pleasantly, turning to the backyard and disappearing in the night. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Potter, who sat up straight now with a sullen look on his face.

“I’ll keep him company,” she smiled to Ron, who nodded immediately and let her go.

Outside, Hermione found Draco leaning against one of the trees and staring over the vast nothing of the landscape surrounding the Burrow.

“I heard James, Albus and Lily talking about the presents you bought for them for Christmas,” Hermione said casually. “I thought the Weasley children got a shared gift?”  
“They’re not Weasleys, are they?” Draco responded.  
“Well, I would think you’d equal them with the Weasley children. Since they have a Weasley parent at all. Singling them out like this make one wonder whether you were trying to impress them.”  
“Why would I?”  
“You tell me.”

Hermione crossed her arms, catching Draco’s eye and keeping it.

“Listen, Draco. I know you know that I don’t like you very much. I think I have enough reason for that. But I have forgiven you, and so has everyone else in that room. I also don’t hate you anymore. I just don’t like you.” Hermione ignored Draco’s frown. “However, I see how you look at Harry and how Harry looks at you. You must know that he likes you.”

Draco nodded faintly. “I noticed.”  
“Exactly. And you like him.”  
“It’s not particularly easy to dislike him. Believe me, I’ve tried.”  
“I don’t care. I only care about why you keep fending him off. He’s head over heels for you, and you might be even deeper in.”  
“I –“  
“No, _listen to me._ You can’t lead him on like this. It’s not healthy, not for you and not for him. If the reasons of your inhibitions are so strong, let him go entirely. I don’t want you hurting him. You’ve hurt him enough in your life.”

Biting his lips, Draco looked at the ground, but Hermione didn’t relent.

“Everything about you screams that you want him, which is okay. We’ve all accepted you. But then you go ahead and run away like that. Don’t. He needs _some_ motivation.” Hermione smiled when she saw Draco’s pondering expression. “Just – just follow your heart, yeah? That’s always a good thing to do.”

When Draco nodded and Hermione seemed convinced that he had actually understood what she was trying to say, she went back inside. It didn’t take long for Draco to follow. He hesitated at the doorway, but seeing a tumbler of Firewhiskey without rocks standing at the coffee table, and Potter sitting curled up on the couch, convinced him.

He walked up to Potter and sat back down, circling an arm around Aquila and Phi and extending his other arm in the direction of Potter, inviting him back in. Their eyes seemed to hold an entire conversation. It took a couple seconds, but then Potter was carefully leaning back in Draco’s hold.

He was now sitting sideways, feet under his body and head lying on Draco’s chest. Draco’s arm rested on his thigh, the uncomfortable place where it had been before.

While the conversation was flowing again, Potter noticed small movements against his thigh. He saw that Draco was moving his hand bit by bit, as if he was trying to find a more natural position for it. Draco’s hand stopped moving when it had reached the top of Potter’s thigh and Draco appeared to be lost for other option.

Potter took a breath and took hold of Draco’s hand, placing it across his stomach again. He didn’t move his own hand away, so they were now very softly lying atop of each other. Suddenly, the fingers of Draco’s hand were moving against his, and Draco’s heartbeat had risen drastically. Potter kept himself very still, waiting to see what Draco would do.

Slowly, so extremely slow, Draco was opening his palm and opening Potter’s in the same movement. Potter felt Draco swallow before the latter threaded his fingertips between Potter’s. That’s when Draco stopped moving his hands, heart still hammering against his chest, so that Potter heard the irregular _thump thump thump._

Realising that Draco wouldn’t have the courage to do anything else, Potter gathered his own guts from where they were hiding, dusty and unused, and slid his fingers in one smooth movement between Draco’s. Draco’s already shallow breath hitched slightly, but he remained still otherwise. Potter let himself relax more against Draco’s chest and tugged Draco’s arm tighter around his waist.

Hermione and Draco shared a heavy look, after which everyone pretended that they weren’t surprised and pleased to see them holding hands.

“Molly,” Potter started slowly, when there was a lull in the conversation. “Don’t you have chocolate somewhere?” He felt Draco perk up behind him and suppressed a smile, only patting him softly on his thigh with his free hand. And leaving said hand there, because he was too lazy to lift it again.

“Yes, I still have some chocolate pie from yesterday. But it’s only one piece.”  
“Can Malfoy have that?”  
Draco started protesting. “No, that’s really not necessary,” he rushed to say.

Potter shushed him, squeezing Draco’s hand. “Please, Molly? He likes chocolate.”  
“Of course, I’ll get it immediately,” Molly said, standing up and moving to the kitchen before Draco could say anything else.

“You’re making me seem greedy,” Draco complained, only audible for Potter.  
“I’m helping you! She loves it when people want her food, and you’re the only one who’s too polite to say that they are full.”  
“I don’t believe that.”  
“Trust me, she’ll love you when you’ve eaten that.”

Molly returned with a piece of chocolate pie, handing it to Draco. “It’s double chocolate; milk glazing and white inside. I hope you enjoy it.”

Draco picked up the fork and took a careful bite, after which his eyes grew round and his looked full of wonder at Molly. He quickly took a couple more bites and pointedly ignored Potter, who was now shaking with laughter.

“This is fantastic,” Draco whispered reverently. “What did you do with it?”  
“I put some lemon in the chocolate, while it was melting. It eases the sharpness. Do you like it?”  
“Merlin, do I like it!”

Chuckling a bit at his own eagerness, Draco took the last bites and placed the plate on the coffee table. “Thank you.”  
“No problem, love. I’m glad you like it. Say, what are you doing with New Year’s?”  
“Well, it’s Phi’s birthday, the 31st. So we’ll celebrate that, of course. That’s all I know, really, because my parents don’t have fixed plans yet.”

Teddy looked up. “It’s your birthday next week? We’ll have to have a party!” he said to Phi, who had moved and sat on Teddy’s lap.  
“I’ll be ten!” Phi announced proudly.  
“Oh, ten already? Will you get your letter this year or the next? Since your birthday is in the middle of the year, and all that.”

Phi frowned. “Well, it could be this year, but papa says I shouldn’t expect it, because then I can get disappointed.”  
“Wise words,” Arthur nodded.

Ginny peered at Draco and Potter and smiled. “Draco, you should celebrate New Year’s with us. If you want.”  
“Good idea,” George nodded. “You’re very welcome. And your parents, too, of course,” he added with barely there reluctance.

Draco smiled. “I’ll consult my parents on their plans and get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Aquila took this as her cue to start yawning loudly, followed by Scorpius and Albus. Potter and Draco grinned.

“I think we should head back. The Portkey’s set in ten minutes,” Potter stated. Draco nodded, standing up and grabbing the new presents his children had gotten and stuffing them in his backpack.

It didn’t take long to come back home and put the children to bed. Downstairs, Potter was sat on the sofa and looked thoughtfully at his hands.

“We should talk,” he said upon Draco’s arrival. Draco swallowed, sitting down sideways with one knee on the sofa and facing Potter.  
“All right.”  
“About us. This. What we’re doing. I mean. I like you, Malfoy.”

Draco smiled, but it lacked the usual brightness. He knew what was coming and was not looking forward to it.

“And I think you like me too. But I’m not entirely sure. I would like to know, though. Do you like me, as a friend or as more? I kind of need to know, because I’m slowly going out of my mind. As I said, I think you like me too, because we almost kissed and we held hands just tonight, but I also feel like there is something hindering us.” Potter bit his lip. “Is there something that’s holding you back, or is it just my imagination? That’s what I need to know.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I like you too, Potter,” he managed to say.  
“But?”  
“But I can’t.” He stood up and turned his back on Potter, looking at some books standing in the book case.

“What does that mean?”  
“It means that I can’t have a relationship with you. There is something holding me back, yes. That’s what it means.”  
“Is it your children? I think they approve, so that isn’t much of a problem. Right?”

Draco sighed. “No, it’s not them. It’s never them.”  
“Then what? Is it your parents? Do they… not approve of you being with a man?”  
“Potter…”  
“No, really,” Potter insisted. “They don’t have any right to prevent you from something like this. Your father has his heir, he has multiple. You’ve done as he said, you married Astoria because he wanted you to. It’s time to live your own life, Malfoy.”

Growling, Draco turned back to face Potter. “It’s not that.”  
“Isn’t it?”  
“No. I chose Astoria myself. Yes, my father wanted me to marry as soon as possible, so I couldn’t find a bloke I wanted to spend my days with, and so I could provide an heir. But nor my father nor my mother are preventing me from being courted by or courting you.”  
“Then tell me!”

Potter seemed properly angry now, balled fists and furious eyes. He hadn’t lost his temper in all those years.

“It’s complicated.”  
“Try me.”  
“I’m not willing to tell you, Potter. It’s something I need to figure out on my own.”  
“Do you not like me enough to date or, Merlin forbid, enter a relationship with me?”  
“I wouldn’t impose on family days like Christmas and Boxing Day if I wasn’t serious about you, Potter. So don’t you dare think _you’re_ the problem.”

 Potter took a breath, seemingly calmed down a bit at that admission. “Just tell me. I’m quite trustworthy, you know.”  
“But as I said, I need to figure this out by myself. You can’t help.”  
“Is it some kind of internal struggle then?”  
“Something like that.”  
“Are you not completely convinced of yourself? Or do the risks somehow outweigh the profits? Is that it?”

Stretching his back and shoulders, Draco nodded.

“So I just need to convince you?”  
“It’s not that easy.”  
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please.”

Draco sighed again. “I told you. You can’t fix this. I’m sorry.”  
When Potter remained silent, Draco chanced a look at him and clenched his fists. “I’m going to bed. I… I had a lovely weekend, Potter. Best Christmas I ever had.”

Without looking up again, he moved to his bedroom and started changing in his pyjamas. Right before he waved the lights off, Phi walked in and climbed in bed with Draco.

“I missed you,” he gave as simple explanation.

Next came Cassie, saying that she was afraid of getting nightmares, with such a straight face that Draco couldn’t believe her, even if he wanted to. She sat on the edge of his bed.

Aquila dropped in as well. “Cassie just walked out without a word, so I was about to check up on her,” she shrugged, cuddling close to Draco.

Last but not least, Scorpius knocked on the doorpost and stuck his head in. “I heard people walking around. Everything fine in here?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but just sunk down on the foot of the bed and closed his eyes.

When Draco looked at the other three, he saw that they had covered themselves with his blanket and were nodding off to sleep.

“Lying little bastards,” Draco mumbled lovingly, before he too tugged the blanket higher and tried to relax enough to catch some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop laughing at 'arm resting on the arm rest', but I didn't know how else to put it. I'm still giggling. Like, WHERE ELSE WOULD YOU REST YOUR ARM?! Okay, so that's my weird humour. Let me. (Also: Potter patted. Potter patted. Potter patted. I dare you to say that ten times without stuttering.) 
> 
> Like always, DYING to hear what you think of this! Please leave comments and feedback. Your comments make me happy, resulting in more chapters/longer chapters/better chapters and Happy Drarry.
> 
> So comment!
> 
> And come to me on Tumblr: i-am-and-proud, because I'm lonely and like talking to you.


	31. New Year's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR YOU BEAUTIFUL SPECIMENS!!!!
> 
> Here, to start 2018 the right way: another chapter. And it's a long chapter. It's about twice as long as a regular chapter. Enjoy! (I had no idea what I wanted to write in this chapter, so I'm sorry if it's rubbish)!
> 
> Oh and for the curious people among you: I said before that I had entered in some writing competition (which didn't really work out), but for those of you who'd like to read my submission, it can be found [here](https://i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com/post/169037154636/the-red-scarf)!

Waiting for Narcissa to get ready, Draco wandered into the library to leaf through some books. His father was sitting there, his face a stony mask, but his body language screaming anger.

“Are you reading anything interesting?” Draco asked, trying to relieve some of the tension he had brought in the house.  
“Not particularly,” his father answered shortly. He turned sharply, facing Draco instead of the shelves. “Do you know what signal you are giving?”

Draco slowly put his book down. “With what?”  
“You have decided to invite your mother to the Burrow, but not me. What is the world supposed to make from that?”  
“First of all, the _world_ won’t know. Since we’re only going to someone’s home, and not somewhere public. Second, I wouldn’t have thought you wanted to go to the Burrow.”  
Lucius huffed. “That’s not important. We are supposed to be a united front, Draco. Together.”  
“Father, I –“  
“You make it seem like we don’t trust each other. Is that it? Are you only visiting for your mother?”  
“No, of course not,” Draco stated calmly. He took a few steps forward to see his father better.

They stayed silent for a bit, Lucius waiting for Draco to elaborate, and Draco trying to find the right words.

“Andromeda Black will be there. Mother will want to talk to her, and I fear your presence may hinder some of it. But that’s not all. The Weasleys have lost a lot in the war. Losing a brother, a son, a friend is not something one can forget so easily.”  
“It’s not me who killed him,” Lucius defended, just as calm as Draco tried to be.  
Draco shook his head. “No, it wasn’t you. However, you _did_ follow the man who is responsible for his death.”  
“So did you.”

Wincing, Draco told himself to keep breathing. “You and I are both aware that there was a difference in our reasons for following him.”  
“And the Weasleys see that difference as well?”

Draco merely held his hands up, as if to say ‘they invited me, didn’t they’.

“I can understand why they wouldn’t want me there. I can,” Lucius said then, flicking his eyes to Draco’s hands that were resting on the table. “But they extended the invitation to us, your parents. Both of us. Why only take your mother?”

Draco noticed the stance his father had taken, meant to impress and suppress. He also noticed that his father knew he couldn’t suppress Draco anymore. It was exhilarating and saddening at the same time, seeing his once so powerful father unable to keep his son in tow.

“Father… I know they invited you both, but _I_ am the one making objections to your presence. For your sake, as well as theirs. They won’t be able to see you as the man you are, _were_ , behind the Mark. They’ve actively fought against you, especially the older ones. Merlin, you slipped Ginny the diary! Do you actually expect me to bring you along to such an intimate festivity?”  
“And so I’m supposed to spend midnight on my own?”  
“You’ve spent it worse.”  
“Never so deliberately, Draco Never have I been abandoned like this.”  
“I know,” Draco said. “But you told Mother to go with me.”  
“I’m not just talking about your mother. I’m also talking about you. Since when do we not celebrate the holidays as a family?”

Draco scoffed. “If I hadn’t owled you, you would have stayed in France, Father. Don’t victimise yourself.”  
“It is not proper to not go together,” Lucius persisted.

Feeling his patience begin to wane, Draco took a deep breath. “Father, I am going, no matter what. Mother is welcome to join me, you are not. You are clever enough to understand why. Talk to Mother if you don’t want to be alone. I’m sure she will comprehend, if not stay with you.”  
“Why are you even so set on going?”

Draco searched his father’s face for any sign of knowledge or realisation. Upon not finding it, he straightened his back a bit. “My children have become friends with the Weasleys and Potters. I don’t want them to be disappointed.”  
“They’ve already spent the entire Christmas weekend with them. Are you sure that’s all? Not your old –and frankly embarrassing- obsession with Potter?”  
“No, Father,” Draco said honestly. “It’s something rather different.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Draco. “No matter what you do, they will never forget your history with the Dark Lord.”  
“No, they won’t. And I don’t want them to. It’s part of who I am, Father. It made me who I am.”  
“Your pride is doing you no good, Draco. The Dark Lord will always hunt our family.”  
“And whose fault is that?” Draco shot back, seeing that his father had started to connect the dots; the strange flavour of chocolate in the shape of lightning bolts and Sleekeazy’s bottles.

Lucius clenched his jaw, eyes sharp. “Potter won’t like you when he realises that the Mark of the Dark L-“  
“Don’t call him that. It makes you seem awful, Father,” Draco snarled. “I know what this Mark means. I’ve lived with it for more than half my life. Potter and the Weasleys know what it stood for. They’re not daft. I’m only trying to make sure that my children aren’t as corrupted by Rid – _Voldemort_ as I was.”

Turning around with a violent growl, Lucius showed Draco his back in an effective method to end the conversation. Narcissa’s soft footsteps were heard on the stairs.

“We’re leaving, Father,” Draco said softly. “Happy New Year. I’ll be visiting again soon.”

He smiled at his mother and offered his arm to walk her outside to Apparate to Malfoy Lodge, where the children were waiting. Narcissa frowned lightly.

“What were you talking about?” she asked.  
“Him not going, my association with the Weasleys and our history with Riddle,” Draco summarised easily. Landing in front of the gates of the Lodge, Draco placed his hand over his mother’s that was resting on his arm. His mother remained quiet but gave him a sharp, warning glance. Draco responded with a mere nod.

Making sure that the children were ready, they grabbed the Portkey and arrived in front of the Burrow, where the door was open and loud bustle sounded from within. Draco squeezed his mother’s hand for a short second, before they both composed themselves and followed the children inside.

“Cissy?” a warm, kind voice sounded immediately after entering the living room. “Narcissa?”

Narcissa and Andromeda stood in front of each other, just watching the other. There was a distinct difference in aura and stance. While Andromeda was relaxed and inviting, Narcissa seemed almost royal. She wasn’t entirely sure of her presence there, like Draco had felt on Boxing Day, and masked it by lifting her chin a tad too high and straightening her back to unnatural rigidity.

Andromeda was the first to cave, and smiled. Narcissa breathed out, releasing some of her tension and took the last few steps forward to envelop her sister in a gentle embrace.

“Andromeda, how good to see you again,” she whispered. “You look wonderful.”

Andromeda laughed, leading Narcissa towards the table to sit down. When Draco saw how easy it was between them, how eager they were to update each other on their lives, he allowed himself to pay attention to other things.

George was the first to greet him, sneaking up from behind and giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Dragon-boy! How’s life?” he asked. Teddy had scooped up Ophiuchus and was coaxing the entire room into singing a few birthday songs. Draco laughed.  
“It’s very good, thanks for asking. How is everything here?”

Waving his hand to indicate the buzz and chaos, George grinned. “The usual. Oh, we have a few presents for Phi, if you don’t mind. And Molly made him a cake. Is that okay?”  
“I don’t think Phi’s going to object to presents,” Draco joked. “Does Molly need some help?”  
“Nah, Harry is bothering her in the kitchen, probably trying to help but more likely ruining it. He’ll be sent away in a few moments.”

Right on cue, a loud clatter of pans were heard and Potter appeared, sheepishly looking at all the Weasleys that were laughing at him. He smiled upon seeing Draco, coming his way but stopping immediately when he saw Narcissa sitting at the table, being left alone by Andromeda, who was getting them a drink.

“Mrs. Malfoy?” he asked, after throwing a quick glance at Draco.  
Narcissa looked up and raised an eyebrow – kindly, not as sharply as Draco usually did. “Mr. Potter. Did you like your chocolates? Or didn’t Draco share?”

Draco drew closer. “What a negative picture you paint here, Mother. You’re a guest, and so am I. Shouldn’t we stick together rather than be pitted against one another?”

Chuckling, Potter caught Draco’s eyes. “He shared. I doubt he would eat caramel sea salt, though. He seemed very fixed on his hazelnut flavoured ones. And I liked them. How did you get them in the shape of those potions bottles?”  
“Well, Mr. Potter, that is the secret of the gift-giver. I’m glad you liked them. I wouldn’t want any of Draco’s friends to dislike their chocolates.”

Draco heard Scorpius whisper something, after which Albus snorted and burst out laughing. Their gazes were insistently fixed on their respective fathers.

“I wouldn’t even dare to dislike them. From what I’ve noticed, Malfoy is quite attached to his chocolate.”  
Narcissa laughed quietly. “I suppose so. You wouldn’t believe how much chocolate he used to eat when he was younger. Once, when he was about five years old –“  
“And that’s about enough. Come on, Potter, you don’t want to hear this. You’ve got to leave Mother alone before she thinks you’re interested in her stories,” Draco interrupted with a wink. Potter only grinned and led himself be lead away.

They sat down on the couch, in the corner that Draco had already dubbed his.

“Draco! Congratulations with Phi. Did he get his letter?” James asked. Before Draco could answer, Phi jumped in between and waved a piece of paper.

“I did! I got a letter from Hogwarts this afternoon. A brown owl brought it. I had left my bedroom window open, and it flew right in. The letter even said ‘Ophiuchus Malfoy, the west bedroom on the second floor.’ Look!”

All Weasleys gathered round to hear, Narcissa and Andromeda remaining with the two of them at the dining table.

“But you only turned ten,” Victoire said.  
“Yes, but I got my letter when I was ten, too. It’s when your birthday is in the middle of the schoolyear, then you can get a letter when you’re ten or eleven. It depends on your magic,” another one answered.  
“So when your magic is strong, you get a letter on your tenth?”  
“Something like that, yes. So Phi’s strong.”

Ophiuchus grinned, partly because of the compliment, partly because he was special and partly because of all the attention.

“And next year, I will go to Hogwarts as well, with all my siblings. I wonder in what house I’ll be Sorted!”  
“Join us in Gryffindor,” Hugo offered.  
“Ugh no, Slytherin is so much better.” Albus turned up his nose at his cousins, who were starting to argue.  
Aquila owned all attention when she casually flicked her hair and raised and imperial eyebrow. “I don’t see how any House could be better than Ravenclaw.”

Hermione walked in and laughed, high-fiving Aquila immediately. “Well said.”  
“You’re a Gryffindor as well,” Ron complained.  
“Ah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think another House is better. The House System shouldn’t be as strict as it is,” she tutted, waving at Draco and Potter.

The Weasleys had turned back to Phi, preventing Hermione from lecturing them on the faults of the House System.

“Which House do you admire the most?” Molly II questioned.  
Ophiuchus pretended to think, but Draco knew he had his answer ready. “Well, I like Gryffindor, because I would sacrifice myself if it’s the right thing to do,” he recited what Draco has always told him. “Or perhaps Ravenclaw, because I’m curious and critical. Slytherin would be cool, too, with Scorp and Cass. But I also really like Hufflepuff and I appreciate honesty. So I don’t know yet.”

Potter laughed beside Draco, the rumbles vibrating through to Draco. He hadn’t noticed they were sitting so close.

“Who wants to play Quidditch?” Ginny exclaimed then, striding in with her broom in her hand. A couple hands shot in the air.

Potter looked at Draco, nudging him questioningly. “Save me from Ginny’s awful Seeker skills?”

Ignoring Ginny’s indignant squeak, Draco let himself be dragged up and towards the broomshed. Back outside, the teams were made.

Draco and Potter were opposing Seekers. Ron was Keeper of Potter’s team, while Ophiuchus mounted his broom, a little shakily since it wasn’t the lighter broom he was used to, and took his position in the air in Draco’s team. Aquila and Scorpius placed themselves as Beaters for Draco’s team as well.

Ginny and Angelina hassled with who would be in whose team, which ended in Angelina joining Draco and Ginny Potter as Chasers. Cassie and Louis Weasley also flew in circles with their Chaser kit ready for Draco, while Dean Thomas and Rose Weasley soared behind Potter.

Potter’s team only missed his two Beaters. Draco saw George cast a wistful glance at the brooms and bats. He remembered how Potter had said that George hadn’t really played since Fred’s death.

Zooming down, Draco caught Fred II’s shoulder. “Hey mate, why don’t you play with us?” he asked.  
“Which team would I be in?”  
“You’d be a Beater for Potter. Unless you want something else.”  
Fred frowned. “And the other Beater?”  
“We still need to find someone. I was thinking to ask your father?”

Shaking his head, Fred looked at the ground. “He doesn’t play.”  
“He did, back in school. Why don’t you ask him?”

The bit of hesitation on Fred’s face disappeared when he saw George stroking an older, unused broom. He strode towards his father and grabbed two brooms, one of which was the older one George had been looking at.

Potter sent a grateful smile Draco’s way when George hesitantly pointed his broom upwards and took hold of the bat in his hand. As soon as Fred joined him, also holding a bat and grinning widely, George’s face became relaxed and he looked around to assess his opponents.

“All right, let’s do this!” Draco called loudly. “The French Speaking Talents against the English Losers. Release the Quaffle, Bill!”

With a loud zooming sound, the Quaffle was freed and the game began. Draco couldn’t help but smile at the exhilarated expression on Potter’s face, and the wondered look of George as he and Fred played together for the first time since the war.

When they were finished –the Snitch hadn’t been found, but they called it quits- Ophiuchus was taunting Ron on his poor Keeper’s skills, since Phi had blocked many more goals than Ron had. Ron laughed and taunted right back, telling Phi that he was so young, no one had dared to throw with real power.

The French Speaking Talents had still won, though. With 160-80. So Draco wasn’t above being smug.

Cassie ran inside, elated with her victory, and immediately bumped into Andromeda.

“Oh, be careful, darling. You are one of Narcissa’s grandchildren, aren’t you?” Andromeda asked. Cassie threw a look over her shoulder, seeing Draco standing with Potter and James. “Yes, I am. I’m the third.”  
“Very well. I’m Andromeda, and you are?”  
“Cassiopeia,” Cassie said. She hesitated for a second, until she took a breath. “Do you know why papa called me Cassiopeia?”

Surprised, Andromeda took a sip from her drink and motioned for Cassie to continue.

“You see, papa is a sentimental sap,” Cassie explained. “He wanted to name all of us to family members. Phi’s second name is Sirius. You understand what I mean.”

Andromeda laughed softly.

“So papa wanted to name one of us after you, as well. He couldn’t do that with Aquila, because my mother insisted on something else. She refused to call me Andromeda anyway. So papa came up with Cassiopeia. Because she was the mother of Andromeda. He always told me it was a way to include you in our family, even if you couldn’t really be with us.”  
“Cassie, what are you talking about?” Draco appeared behind her. “It’s the done thing in a conversation to let the other speak as well.”

Cassie smiled at Andromeda and walked away, leaving Draco and her together. “Draco Malfoy,” she greeted.  
Draco inclined his head, took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Aunt Andromeda. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”  
“You look a lot like your parents.”

Wincing, Draco pasted a smile on his face, but Andromeda had already seen it.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I don’t mean it like that. I have a lot of faith in you, I actually think you can do very great things. And your children too. They are a bunch of bright, ambitious young adults. You’ve raised them well.”

Draco looked at the ground, smiling faintly. “Yes, they are incredible.” He opened his mouth to say more, but Andromeda cut him off with a kind look.  
“There is someone dying to talk to you. I won’t hold you up any longer,” she whispered, nodding at Potter, who was staring unabashedly at them.

At the same time, Molly called for them to get seated, because dinner was almost finished. Draco was squished between George and Potter, with his children scattered between the various adults, and he was having a hard time ignoring Potter’s smirks whenever George said something to him.

“Could be _please_ be less obvious?” he hissed. Potter only laughed.

Somewhere to their left, a discussion had resulted in raised voices. Narcissa and Andromeda were violently shaking their heads at each other and trying to push their argument on the other. Draco frowned, a bit concerned.

“No, Cissy, it wasn’t your fault. Not the way you think it was. I don’t blame you for anything.”  
“But ‘Dromeda, you _know_ I knew about it. I’m not as innocent as you seem to think.”

The rest of the table had fallen silent and was listening to them, the Malfoy children with wide eyes and unsure looks at Draco. Draco felt Potter’s worried gaze on him and a second later, his hand on Draco’s thigh.

Draco scraped his throat, earning the attention of his mother and most of the Weasleys. “Let’s try to clear this once and for all,” he said, hands clenching in nerves. “There is a lot of history between all of us. No use in denying it.”

Molly pursed her lips and cast a look at the family clock, where Fred’s hand was missing.

“Everybody, close your eyes,” Draco ordered. He was happily surprised in how easily everyone went along with it, apparently more than willing to clear the insecurities between their families.

“Who here, and be honest, has killed or badly hurt someone during the war?”

All hands of adults went up, some more hesitant than others. Draco swallowed before raising his own hand as well, refusing to look at Cassie.

“Now open your eyes and look. You see, every one of us has done things during the war they’re not proud of. Close your eyes again.”

He sighed a bit, Potter’s hand on his thigh not relenting.

“And who has killed or badly hurt someone that meant a lot to or was family of another person at this table?” Draco continued then. Without opening his eyes, he snapped, “Potter, put your hand down _right this second_. The only one you killed or hurt wasn’t loved by anyone.”

Grumbling, Potter let his hand drop, right when Draco ordered the rest to open their eyes again.

Almost everyone had their hands up: Molly, Arthur, Narcissa, Bill, Charlie, George, Angelina, Ron and Hermione. Most looked a bit uncertain, others were completely calm. Draco locked eyes with his mother and raised his hand as well.

“So.” Draco looked around. “None of us aren’t very innocent and clean, and most of us have even gotten a hand to loved ones of someone else on this table. Last time, everyone close your eyes. Who has forgiven _everyone_ on this table for the parts they’ve played in the war?”

Draco was afraid to open his eyes again and took his sweet time. He was the last one to open his eyes. Everyone had raised their hands, even – Draco laughed – the Potter and Malfoy children. Cassie had decided to stand on her chair, to make sure her hand was the highest.

“Idiots,” Draco mumbled.

Potter chuckled as well. “Did you guys know Malfoy had a crush on one of us?” he blurted out. His eyes widened and he slapped a hand over his mouth when he realised what he had said.  
“No way!” Scorpius said sarcastically. “We didn’t know he had a crush on you. What a surprise.”

Blushing bright red, Potter shook his head, ignoring Draco’s angry hisses. Narcissa only raised an amused eyebrow.

“I mean, when he was at Hogwarts. He had a crush on one of us. He told me.”  
“Potter! Potter, what are you doing? I didn’t _tell_ you, you forced me to admit it.”

Charlie laughed loudly. “I can’t imagine it was a Weasley, so it must be one of the partners. Who was it, Draco? Was it Fleur? She _is_ a Veela, after all.”

Potter, now enjoying a furiously uncomfortable Draco, shook his head. “It wasn’t a woman.”  
Narcissa leaned forward in her chair, studying Draco with squinted eyes and a faint smirk.  
“Then you or Dean!” Ginny chirped, pinning Draco to his chair with fearless curiosity.

Draco shook his head violently. “No, nope, no. Not Potter, not Dean. Not at all. Sorry.”  
“Who then?” Bill asked. Draco ignored him, shooting a helpless look at Potter, who only wiggled his eyebrows to the person next to Draco.

Speaking of whom, George had been suspiciously quiet since Potter told them it Draco had had a crush on someone.

“I’m going for a breather. Be right back,” Draco announced cheerily, shoving his chair away and practically running to the back door.

Only a few minutes later, he was joined by George, who was valiantly suppressing a laugh.

“A crush, huh?” he asked.  
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “Nope. Not at all. I don’t know how you got that idea.”  
“I always did wonder how you could tell me and Fred apart.”  
“I couldn’t. I still can’t.”  
George chuckled. “It’s a bit weird if you still can’t separate us.”

Draco snorted. “Yes, all right. Has Potter told all of you then?”  
“No, he hasn’t. It’s just my brilliant skill of noticing the tiniest details. The rest doesn’t know,” George assured him. “At least, I think they don’t. But thanks, by the way. I take it as a compliment, you crushing on me.”  
“Good, rub it in,” Draco groaned, smiling slightly. “It was just for one year, though. Nothing more than that.”  
“Okay,” George agreed. “Then you won’t be devastated if I say that I still think you were a prat, back in the days?”  
Chuckling now, Draco shook his head. “Can’t blame you.”

They were silent, looking at the stars. Draco was trying and failing to find the Draco constellation.

“Is it okay if I go back in?” George asked. Draco hummed. “What will you be doing here then?”  
Draco shrugged. “Reminiscing.”  
“About what? What could have been, had I been gay?” George joked.  
“Of course, what else?”  
“And seriously? The good or the bad kind?”  
“The usual kind,” Draco said after a while.  
George nodded in understanding. “When I think of the past, I think of either good things or bad things. There isn’t anything in between.”  
“For me, the good and the bad usually interlock.”

George sighed. “I should go inside.”  
“Then go. I’ll be fine,” Draco smiled.  
“I don’t want to. It’s… family gatherings are always difficult.”

Draco hummed.

“I should probably be over it already. There is no time for grief anymore.”  
“That’s nonsense,” Draco frowned.  
“Not to them. The rest don’t think about it as often as I do. They think I’m overreacting on days like this.” George buried his hands in his pockets.  
Scowling, Draco turned to face him fully. “George. I’m known for being brutally honest, even coming close to being unfeeling. That’s a warning for what I’m about to tell you.”

George chuckled, facing Draco as well. There was a wet track on his cheek, but Draco pretended not to see it.

“You lost your brother. Not just your brother, though, your other half. You were attached to the hip. You did everything together, and now, you have to do it alone. That’s tough. Your siblings, your parents can’t imagine the pain you went through.”  
“But –“  
“No. Of course they lost their brother, their son as well, but not in the way you felt it. They can’t expect you to deal with it the same way as they do. Every time you look in the mirror, you see yourself, instead of Fred next to you. You are allowed to grieve, to mourn, every second of the day. You are allowed to carry that pain on the surface until you die.”

Another tear had made its way down George’s face.

“Don’t tell yourself you should be over it. You will never get over it,” Draco concluded.

That was the moment that George broke down. “I shouldn’t have left him, Draco. It’s my fault. We should have stayed together.”

His voice was wobbly and he was still trying to pretend he wasn’t crying. “We had never been good at doing something without the other around. If only we had stayed together, he wouldn’t have died.”  
“George, you can’t –“  
“You don’t understand! We needed each other, every moment of the day. And I left him to fend for himself. I wasn’t even there when he died, Draco. _I wasn’t there for him_. If I had been with him, it might have been different. That time I was hurt at my ear, I could have died as well, and all because we weren’t together. But then I saw him again at home, and I was fine, because Fred was with me.”

Draco didn’t know what to do. George didn’t seem like the person who would want a hug, but Draco didn’t really have anything else to offer.

“If Fred and I had been together, it might have been different,” George said, voice steadier now. “We might have both lived, or both died. But at least we had been together. But I let him down. It’s _my_ fault he is dead.”

Placing a soft hand on George’s hunched shoulder, Draco stepped closer. “No, it’s not. It’s not your fault. I understand what you’re trying to say, but it’s not your fault. Never.”

They stood like that for a couple more minutes, until George’s sobs had slowed down and he straightened up.

“We should head back, before Harry starts thinking we’re doing something uncouth,” George grinned. Draco just shook his head and headed inside.

“Thanks, by the way,” George said right before they sat down. “I needed that.”

Draco smiled and focussed on Phi, who was getting some small presents from the Weasley family.

Half an hour before midnight, an owl found its way towards Draco, bringing a letter from Pansy.

_Draco, you’re with the Weasleys, right? We received an invitation from Harry, asking whether we could come as well. We only want to if you’re there. ‘We’ includes Blaise, Greg and me. Love, Pansy._

Draco showed the letter to Potter, raising an eyebrow and rolling his eyes at Potter’s proud grin. He summoned a quill and scribbled on the back that he most certainly was there and that they were welcome to join. It wasn’t long before three cracks of Apparition sounded in the backyard.

Quickly introducing them to the Weasleys, Draco passed them all a glass of champagne – and was pleasantly surprised when Greg asked for pumpkin juice instead. He had received the letter from the rehabilitation centre, then.

Right before midnight, Potter sidled next to Draco and joined in his conversation with Ron and Charlie.

“When are you two finally going to admit your undying love?” Charlie asked, a bit imbibed from the glasses of champagne and tumblers of Firewhiskey he had already gulped down.  
Potter rolled his eyes, but was also less inhibited than usual. He buried his face in Draco’s neck in embarrassment.

Draco laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist. “We won’t, since we aren’t characters from some sleazy fantasy novel.”  
Potter said something in his neck, but it sounded more like a hum than anything else, so Draco didn’t pay attention to it. Pansy raised her glass at him with a smirk.

“You smell good,” Potter mumbled suddenly.  
“You’re drunk,” Draco returned.  
“I’m not. I’m merely tipsy.”  
Draco grinned, tightening his arm around Potter. “Right. Keep believing that.”

Molly and Arthur started shouting, counting down from ten. The entire group shouted along, the children jumping and dancing and stealing tiny sips of champagne from George.

When the fireworks popped, Potter lifted his head from Draco’s neck and smiled, enveloping him in a tight hug.

“Happy New Year, Potter.”  
“Same to you, Malfoy. I hope you work out whatever you need to.”  
Draco smiled. “Thank you. To you as well, of course.”

A flurry of children around them, made them look up.

“Papa,” Scorpius started. “Are you going to let each other go any time soon?”  
“Or are you one of those saps that think the way you start the New Year is how you will spend it?” Albus continued.

Potter laughed, opening his arms for a hug with Lily. “Well, I wouldn’t mind,” he smirked at Draco, who rolled his eyes and pulled Scorpius close.

“Happy New Year, Scorp. You’ll make this year worth it, won’t you?” Draco asked softly.  
“Of course. I always do,” Scorpius returned. When he let go, his place was immediately taken by Aquila, who kissed Draco on his cheek. Phi hugged both Draco and Potter, remaining close with James afterwards, and Cassie refused to leave Draco’s side.

Draco walked, with Cassie in tow, towards Narcissa and Andromeda to wish them a happy new year as well. Pansy, Blaise and Greg came up to him to thank him for his Christmas presents and to clink glasses.

“So, you and Harry are quite serious, aren’t you?” Pansy chuckled.  
“We are nothing –“  
“Yet,” Greg mumbled in his glass.

Rolling his eyes, Draco observed Greg. He wasn’t looking good, cheeks pale and eyes hollow –either from the amount of alcohol he had been consuming lately, or the lack of it the last week. Greg sent him a reassuring smile, though, so Draco nodded and focused back on the conversation between Pansy and Blaise.

“Malfoy! We have fireworks!” Draco heard behind him. He turned around to see Potter holding a bunch of thin sticks with sparks flying from the top. Excusing himself from his friends, he joined Potter, Bill and Dean in their attempts to burn the entire surrounding of the Burrow.

At a certain point, the children had gathered around the bonfire and were fighting against their sleep, eyes drooping and yawning heavily. Narcissa and Andromeda have returned home, with profuse promises to visit again soon. Molly and Arthur were circling to say goodnight to everyone, and tell the parents that there a few large rooms were readied for all the guests to sleep, if they should wish to.

Looking down at Cassie, who was still hanging onto Draco’s hand, Draco decided to bring all four of his to one of the rooms, followed by the young Potters and Weasleys. Soon, most children under sixteen had fallen asleep.

Potter sidled up next to Draco, leaning against the wall of one of the hallways. “Do you want something to drink? They’re making mulled wine.”  
Draco smiled. “That sounds good. Is everyone downstairs?”  
“Yeah, enjoying the fire inside. We put out the bonfire and all fireworks in the garden, so it’s perfectly safe to come out.”  
“I thought you had already done that,” Draco mumbled, proud when Potter chuckled at his awful joke.

Downstairs, Draco’s Hogwarts generation, meaning the seven Weasleys with their partners, Potter, Pansy, Blaise, Greg and Draco, all sip from their wine and share bites of the New Year’s pudding Molly had made.

Pansy scraped her throat, holding up a full glass of wine. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have something to say,” she announced, slurring a bit, almost unnoticeably if it wasn’t for Draco’s long-standing acquaintance with her.

“As you see,” Pansy continued, waving her hand at Draco and Potter. “These two are whipped for each other.”

Ron roared with laughter. “That’s an understatement,” he hiccupped. Only when Hermione laid a placating hand on his back, did he calm down somewhat.  
“I don’t think this is necessary, Pans,” Draco warned, keeping his voice soft and low.  
Pansy shook her head. “No, no, this is very necessary. Because, you see, you won’t do it yourself. You need help from your beloved friends.”

Leaning a tad more weight on Draco’s shoulder, Potter got his attention and sent him a questioning glance. Draco shrugged, letting his eyes stray back to Pansy, to make sure she wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing.

“And, listen up, and Draco here loves to sing,” Pansy then said. “So really, the obvious thing to do is have Draco sing for Harry, right. We should let Draco sing for Harry. A love song. A sonnet. A serenade.”

Among loud cheers from the others in the room, including Potter, the traitor, Draco stood up to take away Pansy’s dangerously swirling glass and have her sit down. A sound of disappointment went through the room when it became clear that Draco was not going to sing in front of them, and no, Pansy, he would also not be dancing, especially not on _I Will Survive_.

The evening became slower, softer and emptier, since one at a time, everyone went to bed upstairs, or in case of Pansy, Blaise and Greg, grabbed the Floo home. At a certain point, only Draco, Potter, Ron and Hermione remained, but that changed quickly too.

“We’re heading upstairs,” Ron said sternly. “So the two of you can start canoodling when we’ve left, yeah? ‘Mione and I will pretend that we don’t know.”

Draco laughed. Potter was cuddled close to him and could barely keep his eyes open. “I don’t think there will be much canoodling, Ron,” Draco smiled. “It isn’t as satisfying when it’s one-sided.”  
Potter hummed, his nose pressed in Draco’s neck. “It’s not one-sided,” he mumbled, barely audible. “Unless you don’t want to.”

Ron and Hermione just grinned at Draco, who fought against a creeping blush and suppressing a smile.

“Well, goodnight, Draco, Harry,” Hermione smirked. “Try to get a few hours’ sleep.”

Accompanied by Ron’s laugh, they left for one of the spare bedrooms, leaving Draco alone with a half-asleep Potter, whose only sign of life were the occasional cat-like purrs when Draco carded through Potter’s hair.

Even if Draco didn’t sleep, it was still a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I am _starving_ for your comments, _please_ give me comments :D
> 
> And follow me on Tumblr if you'd like to: [i-am-and-proud](https://i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com/)


	32. Love, love and more love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, I'm a bit late on the update, sorry! I wrote a longer chapter though, so perhaps you won't mind as much?

Going back to Hogwarts had been odd. Draco had been entirely alone for the largest part of the train ride, since his children had abandoned him in favour of their friends and Potter had –apparently- returned a day early. The daily routine of breakfast, classes, dinner and evenings became natural within the first few days, even though Draco had had to send Lazarus to McGonagall a couple times. Lazarus had kept insulting Draco during the lesson when Draco walked past; just subtle enough that most students didn’t notice. Hence, Draco was seen as the bad guy, because he seemingly sent Lazarus out without reason. However, when Aquila, Scorpius and Albus –who had heard exactly what Lazarus had been saying- told their classmates what had happened, Draco’s name was cleared and most students turned their back on Lazarus and his friends.

Especially the Slytherins. They were immensely supportive of Draco and seemed to have accepted him completely, even with his Mark and history. The only Slytherins that still kept their distance from the Malfoys, were children like Jackie, whose parents had lost family or friends to the Death Eaters, and two Muggleborn students who had been told about Draco’s role in the war, and were slightly afraid of him.

The only thing that had really changed was the way Draco was seen by the other Houses. Most Ravenclaws had never dared –or wanted- to speak ill of Draco, since Aquila was a valued student of their House and because she could be terrifying if she wanted to. The Gryffindors had accepted Draco when they saw that the Potter and Weasley children liked him. But the Hufflepuffs had always eyed him warily. They sat far away from his desk, they tried to blend into the walls when he walked past, and they never voluntarily talked to him, before the holidays. Now, though, they greeted him with a smile or a polite nod and some even asked questions about the potions they were brewing. It was a significant change, one that pleased Draco –and Potter- immensely. Even though Draco had no idea what had inspired this change of attitude, he didn’t mention it or think too long about it, in fear it was just a bubble that could snap under the slightest pressure.

On Wednesday, Neville came up to Draco after dinner to arrange sometime where they could meet and talk about the potions experiment. Draco was still brewing potions with Theresa, using Neville’s magically adapted plants as ingredients, to see whether those adapted plants were of any influence in potions.

“What are the results till now?” Neville asked.  
“It’s a long story, I won’t bore you with the details, but most results point to the same conclusion,” Draco smiled.  
“Which is?”  
“That these magically adapted plants have stronger abilities and don’t call for enhancer ingredients.”  
“Meaning?”  
“Enhancers are usually the most expensive, addictive, unattainable and difficult ingredients in a potion. Without these enhancers, many potions will lose their addictiveness, and some may even become legal, because the enhancers are the bits that are illegal to obtain, grow or use.”

Neville grinned. “Are you saying that with my magically adapted plants, all these impossible but unmissable potions for law enforcement and healing purposes are not as impossible anymore?”  
“Perhaps not all potions, and the unenhanced potions will have to be perfected, approved and authorised –“  
“But?”  
“Stop being so bloody impatient, Longbottom. As I was saying, these potions will have to be approved, but I really think many of the new potions can replace the ones that are used now, and are, indeed, impossible to brew or obtain. Or illegal, for that matter.”  
“That’s fantastic!” Neville exclaimed. Potter walked up to them, made curious because of Neville’s enthusiasm –and having just been trying to find a reason to talk to Draco.

Draco chuckled. “But, Neville, I need to warn you. The Malfoy name is still not entirely accepted, not in the Ministry and not in the Potions world. If it comes out that I’m the one who brewed these potions and experimented with them, there is a fair chance they will not be approved.”  
“That’s nonsense, Draco. I’m sure –“  
“No, listen. If it turns out that I have been experimenting with legalising illegal potions and their enhancers, it might just blow up in my face. And since you have been delivering ingredients to me, you might be in the line of sight as well. Especially because you have been experimenting with the adaption of plants, which isn’t approved by all members of the Wizengamot.”  
“What are you trying to say?” Neville frowned. Potter frowned with him.

Sighing, Draco took a binder from his bag and opened it at the right page. Both Neville and Potter bent over it to read what was inside.

“This is a copy of the Wizarding Law about experimenting with and adapting plants, animals and magical beings. It’s a grey area, very grey. If, and I’m not saying that it’ll happen, but _if_ they will go after us, the verdict depends on their goodwill. With me, I will have to make a good case about it. With you, you will subtly have to remind them of your history.”

Potter bit his cuticles. “What do you think are the chances they will go after you?”  
“It depends on which Potions Masters will review this research. If they have any personal grudges, it’ll be bad. However, from my own experience, I can say that rarely anyone ever looks at the name, unless they have real, founded objections on the research and results.”  
“So do you want to continue experimenting and writing up a research report with me?” Neville asked worriedly.   
Draco laughed. “Absolutely. Do you have any idea what the possibilities are, especially for healing potions? Simple over-the-counter potions will be less addictive and can achieve more in a shorter time span. Healers won’t have to choose which patients to treat anymore, since the potions are less valuable and more available. I want to do this, Neville.”  
“And you’re not afraid of anything that might happen?”  
“It’s a balancing of risks. And to be honest, the profits far outweigh the risks.”

Potter looked away, biting his lip, but smoothed his expression before Draco could analyse it too much. When James came over to them, Potter took the distraction and turned away from Draco and Neville’s conversation.

“Hey, Dad,” James smiled.  
Potter grinned back. “Hey you. How’s it?”  
“You know, the usual. I was told to bring you this,” James shrugged, handing Potter a letter. The red seal had been broken and then resealed with the Malfoy seal.  
“What is it?”  
“A letter. Cassie told me to give it to you. He said it was an answer to your question?”

Nodding, Potter felt the seal, loosening it a bit without completely opening it.

Last Monday, he had noticed something about Draco. Somewhere during their conversation, a silence had fallen and Draco had watched Potter while biting his nails. Potter couldn’t remember ever having seen Draco biting his nails, and the act wouldn’t have struck Potter as much as it had, if it was something Draco did all the time. Therefore, Potter thought it would have been another one of Draco’s tells, something that indicated how he felt or what he was thinking. He had asked Cassie about it, but she had never seen Draco bite his nails, ever, so she had sent Pansy a letter, asking about it.

This seemed to be the reply to that.

“So what is it?” James inquired, smirking.  
Potter looked up from the letter and smiled. “It’s just something I asked Cassie’s help with. Nothing important.”  
“It doesn’t have anything to do with a certain blond man?”  
“James, I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Potter grinned.  
“You’re even starting to talk like him! You spend too much time around him, Dad.”  
“Too much? You crazy kids were the ones that tried to set us up.”  
James laughed then. “I’d say we managed pretty well. Didn’t we?”  
“Malfoy and I aren’t in a relationship yet, so I don’t know how _well_ you managed.”

Tilting his head in question, James squinted his eyes. “Yes, why aren’t you official yet? I mean, it’s pretty obvious to everyone with eyes that you like each other.”  
“Personal reasons,” Potter reflected.  
“I overheard Aquila and Scorpius discussing you being hurt. They said they were surprised that you were still acting the way you are, because they thought you would be hurt. Why would you be hurt?”  
“We had a talk, after Boxing Day. It turned out that Malfoy needs more time to get used to the idea. He needs to… get his head together, because there is this internal struggle…”  
“And are you hurt?”  
Potter shook his head, a faint smile having formed around his mouth. “No. No, I’m not. I… I understand. I think I know what he is struggling with, even though he won’t tell me. I think I get it. I’m willing to give him time. As long as I can be sure that we will be together in the end.”  
“About that…” James started. “There is something going on. The Malfoys have been acting oddly, as if they’re planning something. They won’t tell us, not even Albus knows.”  
“What? What is going on then?”  
“I don’t know, but it’s… It’s weird, they’re constantly whispering with each other and they seem to be discussing something difficult, like, they’re frowning and such.”

Potter knitted his brows together in worry. “Do you think I should help, should I do something? Is everything okay, as far as you can tell?”  
“What? Oh!” James laughed surprised. “Sorry, no, it’s not something _bad_. It’s good. Something good is happening. It’s positive. Sorry, I think I let you think that it was horrible.”

A relieved chuckle sounded from Potter and he ruffled James’s hair. “Okay, yeah, I’m fine now. You had me worried for a second. So something good is going on with the Malfoys?”  
“Yes. As I said, they seem to be discussing stuff and whenever one of them says something the others agree with, Scorpius scribbles it down in that notebook he always carries with him. They won’t show any of us what it is, but they said we’d see when they were finished. Aquila told me they’d be finished this afternoon, probably, so that we only needed a bit more patience.”  
“All right. Will you tell me what it is?”  
“Perhaps. If I think it’s something you ought to know,” James grinned. Potter smiled at him, until he saw James’s cheeks turn pink.

“Hi James,” Suzanne said, waving a bit while she walked past.  
“Hey. Hey Suzanne. Hi,” James stammered back.

When Suzanne was gone, Potter raised an eyebrow. “Real smooth, Jamie. I wonder how she isn’t drooling all over you already.”  
“Shut up.”  
“No really, it’s fantastic. Can’t you teach me your ways?”  
Laughing, James punched Potter lightly in his arm. “Dad, _please_.”  
“I’ll stop. But I see you’ve taken a few steps forward, since she greets you and all. How did that happen?”  
“Draco helped me a bit. He told me that she probably wouldn’t be opposed to talking to me. So I started saying hi to her in the hallways, and now…”  
“Now she says hi to you. Well done. So now what?”

A shy grin appeared. “Suzanne and I went on a date,” James admitted.  
“Hold up – what?”  
“A date. We walked around the Great Lake together yesterday, and then I asked a kitchen elf to make us hot chocolate and we spent the evening together in the library, studying. It was really cool.”  
“Congratulations! So you’re dating now.”  
“I suppose we are. We are going to study together this afternoon as well, and probably partner up tomorrow in Transfiguration.”

With James so obviously happy, Potter looked at the letter again. He would really have to read it as soon as possible, because he was incredibly curious as to what Pansy might have to say about it. He was pulled out of his own head because James nudged him.

“Hey Dad, look,” he pointed subtly at the other side of the Great Hall. Following where James was looking, Potter saw Albus talking to a girl, who was playing nervously with her hair while Albus smiled widely.

“That looks like a good piece of gossip,” Potter remarked. “Do you know that girl? Isn’t she in Cassie’s year?”  
“Yes, I believe she is. Her name is… I think it was Manila, but I’m not sure.”  
“Manila could be. There is a Manila in second year. Cassie occasionally talks to her. I know she is very good with Phi.”

James nodded. “Have you ever seen Albus smile so brightly at anyone that wasn’t Scorpius?”  
“No, I dare say I haven’t,” Potter laughed. “You think he might like her?”  
“That, or he is looking for a new best friend, since Scorpius will be his brother very soon,” James winked.  
“It seems everyone’s love life is going great then, doesn’t it? You and Suzanne, Albus and Manila.”  
“I know, right? Even Aquila and Matias are togeth–“ James cut himself and turned to Potter wide-eyed. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear me say that. You’ll forget this, won’t you?”

Grinning wickedly, Potter pulled James a bit further away from where Draco and Neville were still talking.

“Tell me more.”

With a groan, James complied. “Okay. So. Quills told me that she and Matias have been owling daily over the holiday –“  
“Quills?”  
“My nickname for her. So they have been in regular contact, sometimes even more than once a day, and on New Year’s, Aquila got a letter from Matias, on which he had listed his New Year’s resolutions. It was a long list, but Aquila read it all because Matias had all these funny comments on his own resolutions. And then somewhere in the middle, very inconspicuously, there was this resolution saying ‘ask Aquila out on a date’, and nothing else. According to Aquila, Matias had thought she wouldn’t read the entire list, unless she was at least a bit interested. So the next day, Aquila sent an owl back with her own resolutions, one of which was ‘say yes to a date with Matias,’ and that was that.”

“No way,” Potter breathed. “That is amazing. And now? Have they been on a date yet?”  
“Yes. Listen,” James leaned in secretively and smiled. “They saw each other on Platform 9 ¾ and they claimed a compartment for themselves and had a train date, to see whether it would be weird to be more than friends. After dinner, Quills came to me and told me everything, including the fact that they are officially a couple now.”  
“And Malfoy doesn’t know?”  
“No one does, except for me. And you now, of course, so don’t tell a soul about this.”  
“I would have thought Malfoy was the first to know, since they are such a close family.”  
“Aquila doesn’t want anyone to know yet. She and Matias first want to find out where it goes and if it works out.”  
“I’m so happy for her. Do you think Malfoy would approve?”

“Approve of what?” Draco sounded behind them.   
Potter straightened up and turned around, calmer than he felt. “Of James’s idea for his new date with Suzanne.”  
“Oh? What was your idea?”  
“Ehm… Er, I mean… I was thinking… Ehm…”  
“It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me, you know. It’s your life. I’m just wondering why you would even need my approval for your date,” Draco said, while the beginnings of a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth up. Potter narrowed his eyes at him, while Draco stayed focussed on James.  
“No, you see, I had this idea and I thought, since you helped me before, you might have something to say about it and –“  
“You know!” Potter exclaimed.   
Draco turned to face him, now smirking fully. “Know what?”  
“You know what we were talking about! How long have you been listening to us?”  
“Long enough to know that my children are planning something, Albus may have a crush and Aquila is with Matias. Though I already knew that last part before you screamed it for the entire world to hear.”

James crossed his arms, opening his mouth to start defending himself, but was stood gaping when he realised what Draco just said. “You knew about them? _How?!_ ”  
“Well, Aquila isn’t half as subtle as she likes to think she is. Sending letters every day? Starting to grin uncontrollably when said letter arrives and disappearing upstairs to read and answer it right away? People don’t do that with regular friends, Jamie. Besides, I knew she was smitten when I saw them together at the start of this year.”  
“Oh…”  
“And yes, I do approve. Matias is a good guy. He’ll do fine for ‘Quila. At least, I hope he is, for his own sake.”  
“Matias is cool,” James shrugged. “He has never played Quidditch before, but he’s all right. I like him.”

Draco laughed before he turned his attention to Albus and Manila, who were still talking.

“Say, James, isn’t Manila a Gryffindor?” he asked.  
“Hm? Oh, yeah, now that you mention it, I believe she is. Second year right?”  
Nodding, Draco excused himself and went to the Slytherin common room, to check whether there was a new update on the Slytherin House Secret. It wasn’t there, but he decided to read in the common room, in case a note appeared. It was time Draco found out who the SHS was about and who was updating it.

Meanwhile, Potter had sat down at the High Table and opened his letter from Pansy. There were three pages.

_Hello Cassiopeia,_

_I’m very well, thank you for asking. I assume you and your siblings are in good health as well?_

_So the four of you are diehard trying to set them up, huh? Don’t worry, if you hadn’t been doing that, I would have. I wonder how long Draco will pretend he doesn’t want it. He is a stubborn git, but if you say he has his reasons, then I trust your intuition._

_As for your question, I can’t remember ever having seen Draco bite his nails. He wouldn’t do that, he is very careful with his nails. The first thing he cleans after having brewed a potion, are his hands and nails. You know how he thinks about clean nails. Hence, what you say, must indeed be one of his tells. But as I said, I don’t remember him doing that. I asked Blaise for you, and he remembered some things._

_He said that the first time he saw your papa biting his nails, was when he was sitting in front of the fire in the common room, right before Draco told the boys what had been in his father’s letter during the war. It was the first letter he had to recount to any of us. You know Draco always told us just enough to answer our parents’s questions, but not the full details? I wasn’t there, because the first letter was for Blaise, Greg and Vincent only. So that’s incident number one._

_According to Blaise, the second time was very fleetingly, so much so that Blaise sometimes thinks he may have imagined it. It was during the final battle, the Battle of Hogwarts. Blaise told me that when The Mouldy Bread announced that Harry was dead, and Lucius called Draco over, there was a split second where Blaise thought Draco was biting his nails. It didn’t last long, though, because everyone was looking at Draco and biting one’s nails sends the wrong message, doesn’t it? At least, Blaise thinks that was the reason Draco stopped himself so quickly._

_The third time –and Greg remembers this instance as well, and upon hearing it, I got a feeling of recognition too- was the day he would officially start courting Astoria. He had arranged a meeting with Lucius, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, and Astoria herself, but before that meeting, he was with Blaise, Greg and me. We were playing a few games to sooth Draco’s nerves. When he had to go, he had pulled on his coat and scarf and gathered his things. We hugged him goodbye before he opened the door. Stepping out, he turned around one more time to wave, while biting his nails. The door closed before any of us could mention it, but I do vaguely remember that we were all a bit mystified as to why he was biting his nails. We then convinced each other that he was probably just suckling on it as a means to calm down. Odd to do, but much more in Draco’s line of style than biting his nails._

_I have tried to find a pattern in these three instances. My first guess was fear, but we both know that he does a couple of half-blinks when he’s afraid. Then I thought it might be anger, because all these times, he could have been angry at Lucius for putting him in such a position. However, he has never uttered one bad word about Lucius, not even during the war or when he was with Astoria and it all got bollixed up (yes, Cassie, that’s the proper use of that word. Not ‘bollocksed’ like you seem so fond to use.)_

_I truly hope you manage to find out what this tell is about. It’s definitely something I want to know. Perhaps you’ll be able to find a pattern in the four times it happened, including that time you are referring to and refuse to tell me about._

_Take care of yourself, your siblings and your papa for me, all right?_

_Lots of love,  
Pansy_

The third page had a small message written with a perfect, neat scrawl.

_Harry_ , it said.

_I included the letter Pansy sent me, with three times papa was seen biting his nails. Now, you haven’t told me much about last Monday, when you saw him biting his nails, so I can’t draw a correct conclusion. I have one idea that might be correct, but you’ll have to see whether it fits with whatever happened last Monday._

_The thing that the three instances Pansy named have in common, is that papa was balancing the risks with the profits. It’s something he does very often, but sometimes it’s more difficult than others. The first thing Pansy mentions, is when papa had to choose how much he would tell his friends. He probably wanted to protect them from the full knowledge he got. So he was trying to find out whether he could risk being less detailed than Grandfather expected him to be. And he bit his nails._

_The second time was very fleetingly during the battle. I don’t know much about this fight, because papa only told us the basics, but I can imagine that papa would be wondering whether it was worth it to defy Grandfather and Tom Riddle, if you were already dead. Blaise’s assumption that he didn’t do it for long because everybody was watching him for a reaction –and his weakness?- could be very accurate._

_The day he officially started courting Mother could have been one more day where he was trying to make up his mind: marrying Mother would mean giving up his entire chance for love, because papa would never have thought that anyone would allow him a divorce. But marrying Mother also meant having a family, children, which was something he had always wanted, if I may believe his stories. And it would give him Grandfather’s approval. Not a small factor in papa’s decisions._

_As I said, I don’t know what happened when you saw papa biting his nails. I do think, however, that this is the clue. I overheard your discussion on Boxing Day, when papa said that he was trying to figure some things out. It might be –and I’m not entirely sure, but my gut feeling says I’m right- that papa is making up his mind. He thinks the public opinion may not be too favourable if you and him would enter in a relationship, and he is balancing out the risks –awful public opinions, you deciding you won’t/can’t handle it and leaving, your children disapproving, the Weasleys disapproving- against the profits –being with you, being a family again, being with you (or had I already mentioned that one?). His self-preserving part is battling with his self-indulging part, and it’s difficult._

_I don’t have solid proof, but I think this is the truth. I hope you will give him time, Harry. I like you too much to have you bollixing things up (Pansy taught me that this is the proper verb, I’ll blame her if it turns out to be incorrect)._

_Please give him the time he needs. I think if he is biting his nails, he is already quite close to making the decision, and I feel it will be in your favour._

_Cassie_

Potter stared at the letter. It sounded so sensible. It would also fit exactly in how Draco had been acting towards him. Besides, Potter had the feeling that Cassie was most like Draco and understood him best, which indicated that she might be right about this.

Smiling to himself, because surely Draco would give in soon to that self-indulging part Cassie mentioned, Potter walked to his apartment in the Gryffindor Tower. He wondered whether Cassie had had help of her siblings in finding this out. Perhaps this had been that thing James mentioned, the thing the Malfoys had been working on. What else could they have been discussing?

When Potter arrived at the door to his apartment, he saw a book lying on the doormat. Picking it up, his smile widened. Sneaky bastards, those Malfoys actually were.

The Malfoy children had given him a book, of which the cover read:

_How to Deal with Draco Malfoy 101: A Book for the Determined Lover/Friend/whatever you guys are_  
Written by:         Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy  
                          Aquila Auriga Malfoy  
                          Cassiopeia Circinus Malfoy  
                          Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy

The book included lists of sentences in French, Draco’s favourite foods, colours, chocolate and ice cream flavours, wines and clothes. It mentioned his tells, how he deals with his emotions and things that will get one on his black list for the rest of one’s life. Last but not least, a few Pureblood rules and traditions were named, aspects of Pureblood life that Draco would never abandon.

In short, it was a guide on how to steer Draco into entering a relationship with Potter.

Those Malfoys…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Craving for your attention and comments!


	33. A Birthday to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ON TIME WITH THE UPLOADING OF THIS CHAPTER A MIRACLE WOW WHAT HAPPENED
> 
> Just a little warning: there is some violence in this chapter (not graphic), and it's quite angsty.
> 
> I think it's clear enough, but to be sure. From here on, there will be excerpts from the book 'How to Deal with Draco Malfoy 101'. These excerpts will be in cursive and in quotation marks. It'll be rather obvious when you see it.
> 
> The last part was in my head, but I couldn't get it out right, so it isn't of very high quality. Sorry...  
> Enjoy!

_“Chapter Two: Chocolate and ice cream  
Paragraph 5. Draco Malfoy will do anything for chocolate –and that is not an exaggeration._  
_1\. He will turn into a child if confronted with his love for chocolate._  
_2\. Honestly. This is the truth. Treat him like a child, because that is the only way you will get through to him when he is in the vicinity of chocolate._  
_3\. We are really not kidding. If you do not believe us, you should offer him some chocolate and see for yourself. It is almost pathetic. (Cassie: it_ is pathetic. No ‘almost’ about it).

_As said in the introduction of this chapter, there is nothing papa won’t do to get his chocolate. It takes him a lot of self-restraint to stop himself from eating it when it is offered. He will only refuse it when he is not feeling well –either physically or emotionally. On the other hand, if he is emotionally unwell, he will also eat chocolate. So it depends on the situation and the emotion. See paragraph 4 for more information on this._

_ Drawbacks and benefits _  
_\- According to Grandmother, papa was a very whiny child. Expect him to be especially whiny and whimpering when confronted with chocolate._  
_\- He is also very insistent and does not allow many people to part him from his chocolate. Only Grandmother is known to be allowed. Hence, take it as a compliment if he lets you take his chocolate away.”_  
_\+ It is very easy to get papa to agree to something, as long as he does not have strong, principle objections. Just whip out some chocolate and you’ll be fine._  
_\+ Asking for forgiveness and just as easy. Really. Don’t let his prickly appearance scare you off. He will melt and forgive you if you offer him white hazelnut.”  
_

* * *

_  
_ “Papa! Papa, _wake up_!” a loud voice bellowed in Draco’s ear. “Lazy horse, wake up!” His shoulder was shaken by someone on the other side than the voice. Blearily opening his eyes, he saw Phi shaking his shoulder and Cassie screaming in his ear. Draco should have guessed that it was Cassie. His other children would never do that.

“What is it, Cass. Why are you being so loud. It’s still dark out. I won’t be surprised if it’s only four AM, and I will not appreciate it if that’s the case,” Draco grumbled, rubbing his eyes.  
“It’s their birthday! We should do something for them!”

Sitting up in a flash, Draco seemed to brighten. “Of course! Yes, we’ll be organising something for them.” He scurried around the room to change in presentable clothes and moved to the kitchenette. “I’ll bake a cake. Cassie, do you know where the decorations are? You and Phi can start decorating the apartment.”

Cassie giggled. “You are such a weirdo.”  
“Why?” Draco asked indignantly.  
“You were honestly irritated that we had woken you this early. And now you’re ordering us around.”  
“So?”  
“Nothing,” Phi interrupted. “Come on, Cass, let’s make it the way Scorp and Aquila always like it.”

He tugged his sister along to the bedroom, where one of the closets was filled with all kinds of decorations and items they wouldn’t need very often. When they appeared, Draco was busy with the cake. He was making a triple chocolate cake, using the fanciest chocolate he stored in his cupboards. It had three tiers, every tier another chocolate flavour. Scorpius preferred pure, Aquila loved milk and Draco indulged himself with the smallest tier made of white chocolate. Decorating it with Ravenclaw and Slytherin banners, an eagle and a scorpion and their names on the respective tiers, he had only just finished when Scorpius and Aquila themselves sneaked in, thinking they would wake Draco.

“ _Congratulations!_ ” Cassie and Phi called out. Draco waved his wand to start a music from the twin’s favourite band and carried the cake in. Scorpius and Aquila were stood next to each other with identical expression, making them look so alike that Draco had to blink twice. Of course they were twins, but sometimes their different hair colours made them seem less like family and more like friends.

Upon seeing the cake, their mouths fell open in tandem. “You made us a cake?” Scorpius asked.  
“No, I just bought it, obviously. It’s fresh from the oven,” Draco smiled. He put the cake down and Accio’ed a large knife. “Shall we have breakfast with this cake?”

Aquila threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. “We can have breakfast with cake?” she murmured against him, while her siblings had already grabbed plates and forks.  
“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t mean it.”  
“Harry really does have an influence on you,” Aquila grinned. “And I’m not complaining.”

Draco just laughed and started cutting up the different tiers. Phi and Aquila both claimed the milk tier, the middle one, and Cassie and Scorpius asked for the pure chocolate. That left the top tier, all white chocolate, for Draco alone. Which had not been intentional, of course. Not at all.

The moment all five of them were eating their second slice, a knock sounded and Potter walked right in. “Malfoy, you’re awake, right? Should we do something for the twins –“ He stopped himself when the Malfoys stared up at him, stopping their movements altogether and looking guilty.

“I’m awake, yes,” Draco said carefully, his fork with a large piece of cake still hovering in front of his mouth. His eyes flicked to the cake and back at Potter. “Good morning?”

Potter burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you guys! How many slices have you had already?”  
“Two!” Scorpius grinned. Aquila resumed her eating.  
“Two?” Gazing at the cake, Potter frowned. “You’ve eaten almost half the cake. How is that two slices per Malfoy?”  
Draco stayed very quiet, trying to hide his own slice of cake from Potter’s view, but the movement only caught the latter’s eyes.

“Malfoy, look at me,” Potter said sternly. “Let me see that plate of yours.”  
Draco shrunk in on himself, scowling at Cassie who had started to laugh uncontrollably.  
“Malfoy…” he sounded threateningly now.  
“Fine!” Draco snapped, holding out his plate for Potter to take, sneaking another bite before Potter took it.

Eyes widening and valiantly trying to suppress his chuckles, Potter stared at the plate. “Malfoy, this is a quarter of that upper tier. And this is your _second_ piece?”  
“Yes,” Draco grumbled.  
At that, Potter grinned widely. “You are such an idiot. You won’t mind if I eat this, would you?” He wriggled himself between Draco and Scorpius on the sofa, shovelling a few bits in his mouth. Draco glared at the fork, following its movements with his eyes.  
“It’s really not healthy to eat that much chocolate, especially before breakfast.”  
“I don’t care, Potter. I want my cake.”  
“You’ll get what I give you.”

Offering a regularly sized bite, instead of the massive lumps Draco would do, Potter raised an eyebrow at Draco. Draco just grumbled some more and took the bite. Aquila and Phi smiled at each other and caught the wink Potter sent their way.

“Well,” Potter said when the slice of cake was gone –mostly to Draco, of course, since Potter wasn’t very good at saying no- and Draco was eyeing the next piece already. “I suppose I should congratulate you. Fourteen, you are now?”  
Scorpius smiled in assent. “Just that bit closer to being an adult.”  
“Exactly. Do you have any idea already what you want to do after Hogwarts?”  
“Not yet,” Scorpius shrugged. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.  
“It’s not that close, you’ll have enough time to think of something. James wants to become an Auror,” Potter said conversationally, smoothly giving the cake a shove so it was out of Draco’s less than subtle reach.

Cassie grinned at Draco’s miffed look. Sitting opposite of him, she leant forward to pick a small piece of the white chocolate covered cake and ate it, making a show of enjoying it. Draco narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

Potter rolled his eyes, ceasing his conversation with Scorpius and turned to face Draco and Cassie both. “Stop it, both of you. Cassie, you’ve had enough of the cake as well and you shouldn’t try to rile up your papa like that. It isn’t kind. Malfoy, I expected better of you.”  
“I –“ Draco tried, but Potter wouldn’t have it.  
“No. You know she is only trying to get under your skin. You should be used to that by now. And if any of you reach for that cake again, I will vanish it immediately. That also goes for you, Phi,” Potter warned, flicking his wand on Phi’s wrist to keep him from picking a crumble. While Phi tugged back his arm with a pout, the other Malfoys laughed. Potter just sighed.

 _“ Chapter Five: Must Knows_  
_Paragraph 7. Family and friends_  
_Subparagraph b. Draco Malfoy will do anything for his children._  
_1\. He has a distinct weakness for his children, meaning that he can never stay angry for too long._  
_2\. He loves us to pieces and often thinks it’s the only thing that kept him going through some difficult times with our Mother or Grandparents._  
_3\. Papa thinks we don’t know, but he has stated vehemently –in ‘private conversations’ with Grandmother or Blaise- that he would cast an Unforgivable if that meant protecting us._

_There isn’t much in this life that papa loves more than the four of us. Perhaps the only thing that has a chance of throwing us of our throne, is his love for chocolate (chapter 2). He wouldn’t know what to do if any of us would get hurt; he used to get all weepy when Cassie landed in St. Mungo’s, because she had been stupid again (Cassie’s words!). But, as you can read in chapter 3: Characteristics and chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions, papa can get very possessive. That extends to us. If we’re hurt, bullied or excluded, he will get angry. Very angry. Read bullet point 3 if you don’t believe this._

_ Drawbacks and benefits _  
_\- He can get overprotective and will act like a grizzly bear whose cub is in danger, even when nothing has actually happened._  
_\- He is slightly afraid to let us go, because he doesn’t know what to do with himself if we have grown up._  
_\+ If you can get along with his children, you can get along with him._  
_\+ Even though he wouldn’t ever stick up for himself, he will for us. No matter what, no matter when. He will fight, he will help, he will support. There is no doubt about that, ever.”  
_

* * *

_  
_ The rest of the day was filled with classes for all of them, but Draco had wheedled and brought coffee and biscuits until McGonagall had allowed him to take his children to Diagon Alley for a birthday dinner. Immediately after classes, Draco ran up to his apartment to stuff his backpack with scarves, gloves, and presents. When he came down, his children were waiting patiently, wearing comfortable but presentable robes and smiling widely.

They walked off Hogwarts grounds, where they grabbed the Portkey Draco had arranged, and they landed in one of the designated areas for Portkey landings. The buzz of Diagon always managed to surprise Draco, and now was not different. He would have thought that it would be quieter, since it was Monday. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be home, with their spouses and children, having dinner and going over their day?

“Papa, look. Can we go to that restaurant? I like it there. ‘Quila likes it too, don’t you?” Scorpius asked. Aquila nodded in agreement, after which Cassie and Phi sprinted towards the restaurant without Draco having given his permission.

“Don’t do that next time,” Draco chided the youngest two, when they had caught up. Cass and Phi had claimed a table in a corner, where they could look out over Diagon. It was a good spot.  
Cassie rolled her eyes. “We didn’t get lost. You knew where we were going. What’s the problem?”  
“The problem is that you ran off without telling me. We had a deal about that.”  
“But it didn’t go wrong!”  
“Not this time, no,” Draco amended. “But you _know_ that I want you to stay close.”  
“I’m _twelve_ , papa. Loosen up a little. Circe, do you have a stick up your –“  
“Cassiopeia, that’s enough.” Frowning, Draco sat down and placed the five coats and backpack on the empty chair next to Aquila. “I don’t want you saying things like that.”

The other three looked at their sister. Scorpius leant to Aquila and whispered, “Did _we_ ever act like that?” At Aquila’s shake of her head, he nodded. “Thought so. It’s just Cassie’s Gryffindor side then.”

“Papa, this is how _everyone_ talks. It’s _normal_ ,” she stated.  
“I don’t know why you’re being so difficult, but –no, don’t interrupt me- I don’t like it. You don’t get to be sassy with me. Let’s just forget about this and have a nice dinner, yes?”  
Grumbling, Cassie picked up her menu. A few minutes later though, when their drinks appeared, she scooted her chair closer to Draco’s and wiggled under his arm, murmuring a soft apology while pretending to look through the window. Draco squeezed her closer to show he heard it.

During dinner, Scorpius and Aquila unwrapped their presents. Cassie had given Scorpius the faulty Prophecy Ball they had seen in Hogsmeade some months back, when the children had met George and Ron. Aquila had gotten a sweet necklace from her in which she could put a picture. Phi gave them both something from the Wheezes shop. Draco gave Aquila a signed copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. When she turned to him with wide eyes to ask where he had gotten a signed version, he shrugged, saying that was the magic of gift-giving.  
For Scorpius, he had arranged to go with Narcissa to a S.P.E.W. event where Shacklebolt would be present, so he could talk to the Minister.

After dinner, they walked out of the restaurant and onto the street, which still hadn’t lost much of its activity. Their conversation was fun, Cassie and Phi stayed close and it felt comfortable.

Until a group of men walked past. When they recognised Draco, two of them spit in the Malfoys’s general direction. Draco flinched when a glob of saliva landed on his cheek. As an attempt at making a statement, Draco calmly stood still to find a handkerchief with which to clean his cheek. That hadn’t been a good idea.

“Disgusting!” one man bellowed. “How _that man_ dares to show his face.”  
“Death Eater scum,” another agreed.

Aquila turned around angrily, preparing to speak up, but Draco shook his head slightly. She snapped her mouth shut.

“What are you doing here, asshole? You’re a murderer. You should be locked up,” someone jeered.

Cassie crowded close to Draco, who had now turned to face the group of men. His face was impassive, not a sign of emotion or being affected by it.

“You don’t even refute it, do you? You agree that you should be in Azkaban? Do you think you’re disgusting as well?”  
“Of course he doesn’t think that, he feels himself better than all of us. Since none of us is a _pureblood_.”

Draco felt Phi’s magic pouring from him, he was losing his restraint. He was almost shaking with trying to control himself and Draco wanted to look at him, but if he did, he would draw attention to Phi, who was definitely not able to deal with that right now, and the men would take it as a weakness and perhaps draw their wands.

“I’m sure he is raising his children to be just like him. Filthy killers. Aren’t you? You Malfoys are nothing but a load of man slaughtering bastards!”

Scorpius fumed. He took a step forward, but Draco was able to hold him back with a quick hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard –perhaps too hard, judging by Scorpius’s wince. Draco let go, giving the men in front of him a last cool look, before he turned around and herded his children away, softly muttering, “Just go. Come on, let’s go. Come on.”

Sure that his children were following him, Draco strode forward until they were out of sight from those –undoubtedly drunk- men. For a long time, Cassie clenched his hand, Phi was being carried by Draco, magic still rolling off him, and Aquila hovered as close as possible without hindering anyone’s steps. And Scorpius…

“Where is Scorpius?” Draco asked, frowning.  
Aquila shrugged. “I don’t know. Last time I saw him was with those men…” she trailed off, swallowing heavily.

Draco started to panic. He put down Phi, shooed all three of them to the window of some shop and turned around. “You three _stay here_. That is an order. You will not move. I’m going to find Scorpius,” he called over his shoulder, starting to run.

One of the men hit Scorpius in the stomach, but there was barely a flinch. Scorpius just kept looking at the man with as much dignity as he could muster. Another hit, to his nose. The bone cracked loudly and Scorpius felt blood starting to trickle. Apart from the initial clenching of his fists, there was no reaction. Getting annoyed, the man started hitting repeatedly in his stomach and face. Scorpius doubled over but straightened up almost immediately to stare his opponent down.  
He was kneed in the guts, resulting in a painful groan. The directly following punch to his eye was enough to get Scorpius’s knees to buckle, and he fell down. His breaths were punched out of him. From the corners of his eyes, he tried to keep eye contact with his assaulter. Why was no one helping him? Why were all those strangers walking past like nothing was happening?  
The punches had been replaced by unrelenting kicks, until it took literally every ounce of focus to concentrate on his breathing.  
In. Out.  
In. Out.  
In.  
Groan.  
Keep. Breathing.  
Don’t. Give. Them. The satisfaction.  
Stay. Alive.

Slaloming between the mass of people, not even bothering with apologies, he tried to access all his strength and condition to get to Scorpius before anything happened to him. He saw the men standing some three hundred metres away, laughing and jeering. Trying to see more and casting a See Details-spell, he tried to pump his legs to run even faster.

Pushing through the small group of men, Draco swung his fist backwards and throw a deliciously well-aimed punch at the man’s temple, causing him to stumble, away from Scorpius.

“Scorpius. Scorp. Scorp, it’s me. Scorpius, it’s me, you see me? Scorpius? Scorp. Scorp, Scorpius. Hey. Hey, Scorpius. Scorpius, hey.” Draco kneeled at his son’s side, stroking away the blond locks now clotted with blood. Vaguely, he heard the man behind him say something angrily, he heard the sound of a wand being pulled, but he ignored it. He picked up Scorpius, on arm under his knees and the other under his neck.

“Scorpius, listen to me. You’ve got to stay awake, all right? Can you do that for me?”

Scorpius’s eyes fell closed.

“No, no, no, Scorpius. Scorp, look at me. Scorpius.” Draco jostled him a bit, trying to keep him conscious. Only having eyes for his son, he walked away from the group of men and started in a brisk walk towards where his other children were. Scorpius’s eyes fluttered open and closed every few steps. His chest barely rose in breathing.

“Scorpius. Scorpius. Scorpius? Scorp? Scorro? Love? Scorpius, can you hear me? Scorp. Scorp. Scorpius!” Draco’s voice grew louder and louder, his face screwed up in worry.

“Scorpius, listen,” he then said sternly. His son’s eyes opened a bit. “You have to keep breathing. You have to stay awake for me. Don’t close your eyes. No, no, don’t – Scorpius. I am going to be running, yes? And you know how worried I get about my hair. You will have to keep an eye on my hair. Make sure it looks good. Do you understand me?”

Draco felt rather than saw the muscles in Scorpius’s cheeks twitch into a smile. Holding him closer to his own body, Draco started to jog in the highest speed he could do without tiring too fast, squeezing his way through the crowd.

Casting a glance at his son, he saw that Scorpius’s eyes had fallen shut and his head was lolling over Draco’s arm.

“Shit. Shit shit shit, no, please, no, please, shit, this can’t be happening,” Draco chanted softly, speeding up a notch. He was now sprinting.

“Cassie!” he yelled as soon as the other three came in view. “Run to the Weasley’s shop, they must still be open! I need to use the Floo.” At Cassie’s hesitation, he made a violent movement with his head to urge her on. “ _Go_ , Cass. _Now!_ ”

While Cassie started running –with her daily Quidditch practice, strong build and energetic behaviour, she had by far the highest speed of them all- Aquila and Phi came in action as well. Working together splendidly, they parted the crowd of human bodies for their papa to go through.

Finally, Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes came in view, where Cassie was leaning against the window, accompanied by Ron.

“Draco! Merlin, what happened?”  
“St. Mungo’s. He’s unconscious. Please, Floo,” Draco panted, striding towards him.  
“Of course, yes, of course, go to the back. I’ll take care of these three.”

Ron threw powder in the Floo and yelled their destination.  
“Thanks,” Draco managed to say before he disappeared in green flames.

In the hospital, he ran to the reception, with Scorpius still in his arms. “Miss, my son is unconscious. He –“

He didn’t need to elaborate, since the nurse had signalled another nurse with hospital bed at first glance. Scorpius was taken over and placed on the bed, while they were already moving it towards a certain floor, a certain hallway, a certain room. Draco followed stupidly.

“We will need your identification papers, and your son’s too. Make sure you’ve got them ready once we are in the room. Another nurse will come to you to ask what happened while we work on him and try to find how bad it is. For now, you can’t go into the room. We will call you when you can come inside,” the nurse told him.

Draco grabbed his identification papers from his backpack, and the ones from Scorpius. Not being able to sit, he paced in front of the door until a small hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Sir? You’re the boy’s father? Can I see you identification, please, so I can start filling out this form?” a third nurse, a calm-looking woman with mousy brown hair and blue eyes, said gently. A Healer came rushing past, walking into Scorpius’s room. Draco thrust his papers to the woman.

Upon seeing his name, she glimpsed at Draco, but pasted a polite, sympathetic smile on her face.

“Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Could you tell me what happened?”  
“Yes, of course,” Draco nodded distractedly, throwing glances through the small window continuously. “He… We were in Diagon Alley, to celebrate his birthday. He and his sister are – you don’t need to know that. A group of men, I think they were drunk, insulted me. Scorpius isn’t good at handling that. He may have provoked them. I thought he was following me, like his siblings, while we were walking away, but he wasn’t. And then I came back and he was on the ground, barely conscious, being kicked.”

“All right. Does he suffer from anything? Medications, illnesses? Any medical record?”  
“No, he’s very healthy. I’m sorry, do you think he will be all right? Just a guess?” Draco suddenly demanded, boring his gaze into the nurse’s.  
The latter just smiled apologetically. “I can’t. Healer Thornbecke is with him now. He is in capable hands, I assure you.”

Draco nodded in thanks, letting the woman go to her other tasks. He remained standing a few metres away from the door, looking through the window, even though his view was mostly blocked by the back of the Healer.

“Mr. Malfoy? There are three children and a ginger man waiting for you downstairs,” a young boy in intern clothing said. “We aren’t allowed to let them through, since the man can’t prove he is family and the children don’t have identification papers.”  
“No, their papers are with me. I’ll go and get them. Thank you,” Draco sighed.

Ron wanted to go back to the shop, so he wouldn’t go upstairs with them. “I’ll tell Harry that you’re here. Let us know how it goes, yeah?” he asked quietly. Draco nodded. He went to turn to his children, who were huddled together and waiting for him, but took a few steps back and enveloped Ron in a tight hug.

“Thank you for bringing them.”  
“Of course. That’s what friends do,” was Ron’s casual response.

About an hour later, when Phi had curled up against Aquila and Aquila had put her head in Draco’s lap and Cassie was leaning heavily against Draco, the Healer and the two nurses stepped out of Scorpius’s room. Phi and Aquila had fallen asleep, Cassie wasn’t entirely awake anymore.

“And?” Draco asked, wanting to stand up but deciding not to bother his children with the movement.

The Healer sat down in the chair opposite of him. “He will be fine.”  
“But?”  
“It will take some time. He has been hit hard. His nose was broken, together with two ribs, and he had a lot of bruises. He lost some blood. We managed to heal his nose and one of his ribs, but the other was too fractured to heal in one sitting. We will keep working on that the next couple of days.”  
“So?”  
“He will be kept unconscious for a while. The rib we weren’t able to heal yet will take approximately five days to be healed, and by that time, his nose and other rib will be completely back to normal again. I would even go as far as saying that he will only feel some sensitivity in those areas by that time. However, blood replenishing potions don’t work very fast and can’t be used as often as one would look. That will be the longest part of his recovery. After a week, we can think about taking your son off the sedatives and letting him wake up.”  
“A week?”  
Healer Thornbecke nodded. “It sounds awful, but it isn’t hopeless, sir. Far from it. He will get over it and be healthy again in no time. We will of course check on him as often as possible and there are many monitoring charms around him. We will be alerted immediately if he would need more care.”

Sighing, Draco carded his hand through Aquila’s hair, rubbing Cassie’s shoulder with the other. “All right. How often can we come to visit?”  
“Every day, if you’d like. I would recommend your children to keep going to school, since it may distract them and help them through the day. I don’t know if you live anywhere close or if you are able of travelling back and forth…”  
“I teach at Hogwarts, but travelling won’t be a problem. What are the visiting hours?”  
“From 10 to 1 and from 4 to 9. You’ll only have to show your identification papers when you visit.”  
“All right. I think I will see you tomorrow then. And contact me when there is a change. Middle of the day, middle of the night, it doesn’t matter. I will come here straight away.”  
“Of course, sir.”

They both stood up, Draco waking his children. He pulled Phi up to carry him, since he wouldn’t be woken, and rested his arm around Aquila’s shoulders. The Healer seemed to hesitate.

“Is there something else?” Draco pried kindly.  
“Well… I don’t know what to think of it, but… there seems to be some kind of scar on his left forearm…?” the Healer asked, his eyes flicking to Draco’s own covered forearm.  
Draco sighed. “Yes. Bullies thinking they were funny. It isn’t… harming his situation, is it?”

The Healer assured him that it wasn’t, after which they left the hospital. Draco quick-ordered a Portkey back to Hogsmeade. It was just after curfew when they arrived at Hogwarts, McGonagall frowning disapprovingly at them until she noticed their dejected expressions and the absence of Scorpius.

“What happened?” she asked worriedly.  
“Long story,” Draco rubbed his forehead. “He’s at St. Mungo’s. Beaten up in Diagon Alley. Unconscious, at least for a week. Is it all right if I go to the dungeons and tell you tomorrow?”

While McGonagall nodded quickly, Aquila looked at up Draco with red-rimmed eyes and a pleading expression. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t want to go to the Tower alone.”  
Draco smiled tiredly at her, sharing a last look with McGonagall before going to the Slytherin common room.

There, almost all students were present, reading, studying or having fun with their friends. They looked up when the first one started to notice that Aquila joined Draco in the dungeons. Slowly, it got silent.

Draco set his children in one of the most comfortable chairs in the common room, where no one ever sat because they stood next to the walls, where it was cold. He cast a warming charm and summoned some blankets for them.

“What happened?” Albus asked in a whisper. “Where is Scorpius?”

Pursing his lips together in an attempt to calm himself down, Draco pulled Albus in a hug while he addressed the rest of the Slytherins.

“Scorpius is in the hospital. He was beaten up in Diagon Alley today. I can’t really tell you how he is, because I don’t know myself. They’re keeping him unconscious for at least a week, until his blood is replenished and his ribs are healed. They assured me that he will be fine, so that’s what I am telling you. You understand that me and my children may be distant or distracted in the coming few days. I would like you all to keep that in mind and act accordingly. For those of you who don’t know my oldest daughter, Scorpius’s twin sister, this is Aquila. She is in Ravenclaw House and may pop in here more often. I will tell her the password so she can come visit me or her siblings whenever she wants.”

Students started chattering, most of it were words of surprise and sympathy. Scorpius was apparently rather well-liked in Slytherin House. Albus swallowed a couple times, before he cleared his throat and nodded.

“Well then. Can I visit him anytime soon?” he asked.  
Draco nodded. “Of course. Whenever you want. I’m going to go to bed now,” he smiled.  
“Papa,” a sleepy voice sounded from the walls. “Can you sing us a song?”

Cassie looked up at Draco and agreed with her brother’s request. “Can you?”

The rest of the Slytherins stared at Draco as well, confusedly.

“He likes to sing. He always sings for us when we’re sad or tired or afraid. It really helps,” Aquila explained then. “I could do with a couple songs as well, papa.”  
“No love, I won’t. It’s time for bed, especially for Ophiuchus. And Cassie too, actually.”  
“Please, papa. I can’t sleep like this,” Cassie pleaded, eyes wide and bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

A few other Slytherins also tried to convince Draco, but he was adamant about not doing it, until a soft voice from the rug in front of the fire sounded.

“Professor Malfoy?” Jackie asked. “I think all of us would really appreciate being cheered up right now. We’re all very fond of Scorpius.”

Jackie hadn’t spoken to Draco since her parents have been arrested somewhere in the beginning of this year. The fact that she actually did ask him this small favour, was too much to ignore. He sighed, Levitated some chairs away to make room for himself and waved his wand to turn on the music.

After the first song, _Dance With Me Tonight_ from the film ‘Music + Lyrics’, Draco noticed the way many faces had already brightened, which caused him to continue singing and dancing for quite a while.

At a certain point, he saw that Aquila looked very downtrodden, more so than she had been previously. He flicked his wand and _Perfect_ by Ed Sheeran started playing, the song Draco always dedicated to Aquila. She looked up from her hands, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“ _Baby, I’m dancing in the dark  
With you between my arms_ ” Draco sang, inviting Aquila over with a subtle movement. She fitted her hands in Draco’s, closing her eyes as they started dancing on the music. When they’d finished, there was a genuine smile on Aquila’s face. It was a sign for Draco to check the clock, seeing that it’s far past bedtime. Shooing his three children to his apartment –Cassie didn’t want to sleep in her own dorm either- Draco stayed behind to make sure that the common room looked like it did before he went performing the songs.

“Professor Malfoy,” Jackie’s voice sounded again. “I’d like to apologise.”  
“What for?” Draco asked, half-sitting on the table.  
“For how I behaved. I was shocked when my parents were caught. I acted it out on you.”  
Draco shrugged. “You had your reasons. And good ones, may I add.”  
“No, they weren’t very good. I – I know that you were the one who called their names. But if you hadn’t done it, someone else would have. Anyways, they had the Mark. It was kind of their own fault, even if they took it out of fear instead of beliefs. So I want to apologise for the way I’ve been ignoring and freezing you out.”

Draco clasped his hands in front of him to give himself something to do.

“I apologise as well. For naming them. For taking that same Mark. For the things I’ve done. And you deserve to hear my apology more than most others, because you have been living with the results your entire life,” he then said sincerely.

Jackie smiled at him. “There was something else I wanted to say. I admire you. You’ve always been cast away, been an outsider, ever since the war. And still, you managed to raise four children, who, might I add, are seriously amazing, and you’re Potions Professor here, and you’re better than our former professor. And the way you handled the debacle with Terence and Priscus. How did you manage to do all that, even with the Mark on your arm?”

“I didn’t do anything to achieve those things, Jackie. It was the fact that people gave me a second chance. My children gave me a chance to prove that I could be a good parent, that I could care for people. Headmistress McGonagall gave me a chance to prove that I could be a competent teacher at Hogwarts. My Potions Mastery gave me a chance to prove that I could do more than sling Dark curses to others. Without second chances, I would still be nowhere.”

Jackie nodded gravely.

“And,” Draco continued. “That is the motto I have been living by since my trials. Because if _I_ can’t forgive people and give them another chance, then what can I expect others to do to me? Other people have suffered much more from what I’ve done, than that I would suffer from what they would do. It’s only fair if I will forgive them, time after time after time. It’s the only thing I can do to remotely make up for what I’ve done.”

“At the beginning of this year, you said you regretted it,” Jackie said, cocking her head to observe Draco carefully. “Do you mean that?”  
“Yes. I regret what I did. Very much. But I stand by it, as well. I will stand for my mistakes, for my crimes. I won’t deny them and I won’t act as if it never happened.”  
“Why not? Isn’t that the only way to make people accept you?”  
“If that’s the case, then I’d rather not be accepted. I don’t want people to forget. If anyone would forget what I’ve done, they will be sorely disappointed once they get to know me. I’m a vengeful person, Jackie. I get jealous, and petty, and I do a lot of stupid things. What I did when I was younger only shows what kind of person I am. That’s why I don’t want them to forget.

“But it doesn’t define how I _want_ to be, and how I’m _trying_ to be. I’m trying to act differently, especially now that I have children. I don’t want them to make the same mistakes I made. But that’s exactly it. _Because_ I made those mistakes, I can tell my children what to look out for. I can help them in the right direction. Those mistakes, this Mark, is what has shaped me. I learned from it. So no. I don’t want people to forget. I stand by my mistakes. I had my reasons. I had my motivations, and they were good enough for me to do what I did. If I would be in the same position now, I’m not sure whether I would do it any differently. I _wish_ it had been different, but I don’t know whether I would have _done_ it. I am not proud of the things I’ve done and the history my family has, but I _am_ proud of who I’ve become and what I’ve achieved. Even if it included a bucket load of mistakes and crimes and wrongdoings. It’s part of me now, and I will not discard that part. I am just glad that I was given the chances I got, to prove that it is not the _whole_ me.”

When Draco finished his speech, Jackie was staring at him open-mouthed. “I didn’t expect that.”  
“Nor did I,” Draco admitted. “But it’s the truth.”  
“You’re a good man, Mr. Malfoy. A lot of people could learn something from you. Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Jackie.”  
“And could you tell Scorpius I said hi, next time you see him? I really hope he will get better soon.”

Draco promised that he would, after which the common room was empty, apart from him, and he went up to his own apartment as well. His three children –the absence of Scorpius stung sharper than Draco had expected- were lying on top of each other on Draco’s bed, clothes and shoes still on. Draco just shrugged and joined them.

He didn’t sleep that night, even though he was tired enough to sleep for days on end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way! Send me ALL your Draco headcanons! I want to know and perhaps I can use them in my How to Deal with book. And I'd just like to know.
> 
> Also, I'm ill. I feel like shit. I need sympathy. Give me sympathy. Give me love. Give me hugs. (Or chocolate. Chocolate works too). I'm really pitiful. *poutpout*
> 
> Hope you liked it! I'm craving for your comments and opinions!!


	34. Hospital visit #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, I'm ill and I don't have anything to do, so I've started writing. And I realised I still had to write a bit of day-after responses from Harry, so I wrote you another chapter. This weekend there will be an update like always, so this isn't a replacement!
> 
> Hope you like it :D
> 
> (I have to go to college tomorrow again and I don't feel like it. I had three weeks of holiday and two days of missing the introduction lessons for new courses, and now they expect me to start again? GRUMBLE I DON'T WANT TO. But on the other hand, I'll have a course I think I'll enjoy tomorrow and Thursday, so I guess everything is fine. I'll live.
> 
> Remind me to email one of the study coordinators please, otherwise I can't do the course I've been dying to do.)

“ _Chapter 4: Characteristics_  
 _Paragraph 1_ _: A bit about how Draco Malfoy is._   
_There are many things to say about papa. Most of these things are how he describes himself, how he likes to be thought of, how he likes people to see him. Character traits that belong to this, are: jealous, petty, possessive, temperamental, proud, and, as he likes to say, ‘I know a lot of Dark curses and I’m not afraid to use them.’_   
_But you must have realised by now that this is not everything about papa. To friends and family, he is helpful, kind, caring, protective, selfless and strong. He sometimes fears that people forget this about him, so make sure you remind him of this very often._   
_There is a third side of papa. It is a side that he desperately tries to hide, and hopes that no one knows about. On the other hand, he wants people to know, so they can take care of it. This side mostly consists of insecurity, fear, weaknesses, grief, pain and a craving for touch and kindness._

_You have to keep an eye on these three sides. You have to keep a delicate balance in respecting that first part, where he wants people to not come close and be slightly afraid of him, and in loving that softer part of his, the part he doesn’t show to anyone but people he is close with.  
The third side is the most difficult one, but you’ll manage: we have faith that you will, since we think you know this third side very well yourself. With this side, you’re supposed to allow him to talk about whatever’s bothering him, but also distract him at the right moment. And make sure he eats._

_So, to summarise:_  
_1\. Don’t humiliate him publicly, because it undermines that first part of his; he will lash out to you, to establish that ‘dark’ side he likes strangers to see in him. Only fight with him when you’re alone. He will have a hard time forgiving you if you fight in front of all those people who are supposed to keep their distance from him._  
 _2\. He loves to laugh, but most of all, he loves making others laugh. He is rather funny, and he loves knowing that you think he is._  
 _3\. Don’t hesitate to stroke his ego once in a while. It doesn’t even have to be with compliments or words. Laughing at his jokes (even when they’re those horrible puns he loves), tugging him in a random hug, making a surprise dinner, can be enough. He needs reassurance sometimes._

* * *

_  
_ The next morning, Draco and his children appeared in the Great Hall. Aquila sat down next to her siblings, Matias joining her right after.

“What’s wrong? Where is Scorpius?” Potter asked immediately, turning to face Draco with a frown.  
Sighing, Draco told him the detailed version of what happened last night. “But don’t start making a fuss, all right? We can only hope for the best now.”  
“How am I _not_ supposed to make a fuss? Scorpius is in the _hospital_ , Malfoy. He’s _unconscious_. Excuse me for being angry!”  
“Potter, I appreciate the way you sympathise, but really, I don’t need to be reminded of his situation. I feel bad enough as it is.”  
“Right, yeah, of course,” Potter answered sheepishly. “I got carried away. Sorry. So the Healers say he will be fine?”  
“That was their conclusion last night. I’ll visit him this afternoon right after classes. Is it all right if I take Albus with me? He wanted to see him.”

Potter nodded vigorously. “And how are you holding up? You look tired.”  
“I am tired. I’m worried about him.” Draco took a small bite from his breakfast, but frowned after swallowing and put his fork down. “Cassie has been in the hospital many times, but it was always a slight concussion, or a broken arm or anything. It was never like this. I have no idea whether to trust what the Healer said, or to worry more, or less, or be with him all the time.”  
“Well, what do you want to do?” Potter asked, knitting his eyebrows together when he saw Draco push away his plate.  
“I _want_ to stay with him until he wakes up and bother everyone in St. Mungo’s for their reassurance. But I also want the others to be all right and stay calm. If they start panicking or crying, I would break down myself. So it’s a bit of a dilemma.”  
Giving Draco a little nudge and gesturing to the abandoned plate, Potter bit his lip. “Keep eating, Malfoy. It won’t be good for anyone if you don’t take care of yourself right now. But how are the children dealing? I see Aquila has joined Cassie and Phi.”

Draco looked at the Slytherin table. Aquila, Cassie and Phi were huddled together, with Matias and Albus close by. The Gryffindor Potters and Weasleys had probably been updated, since they were also less loud than usual. Suzanne was sitting next to James, smiling compassionately at him and the Slytherin table.

“They’re holding up,” Draco shrugged. “Aquila was particularly silent last night and asked to stay with me. Phi was mostly tired, caused mostly by his concern and worry. Cass didn’t really know what to do with herself, much like me. If Cassie and I would have been with the two of us last night, we would have started running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”  
Potter laughed. “Yes, I may have noticed that Cassie is rather like you. Did you know?”  
Glad with the change of subject, Draco smiled. “I did know, yes. Do you remember that time we talked about which child was most like ourselves?”  
“Yeah, you said that the media saw Scorpius as a mini-you, your friends thought Aquila, and your mother was of the opinion that Ophiuchus resembled you most.”  
“Exactly. But in fact, Cassie would be the one that is most like me. Everything about her is so incredibly recognisable for me, it’s frightening.”  
“Give me some examples.”

Draco looked up at the ceiling, which showed small snowflakes falling down. “Well… First of all, she is the most dramatic. You should see her when she doesn’t get her way. And she’s quite sneaky, and sharp. She can be nasty, like, actually _foul_. If she’s in one of her moods, I just hope she disappears to the attic very soon, so I have some peace.”

Potter chuckled. “I noticed, that day of the duel. She knows exactly when to pull out the big guns, doesn’t she?”  
“Yes, but Scorpius has that as well. Scorpius is a manipulative little bastard. He is so subtle that most people don’t notice they have been manipulated into doing what he wants, until it’s too late. He could rule the world with a flick of his fingers, if he wanted to.”  
“Really? I never knew he was so calculating.”  
“Oh, but he is. ‘Calculating’ is probably a better word for him, and ‘manipulative’ would be Cassie. Phi is actually ‘devious’, and then Aquila can be described by ‘scheming’.”  
“You do know that those are all synonyms of each other, right?”  
Draco wriggled his fingers impatiently. “They are, but all of them have a different _sense_ , you know. Just like my children; very much the same, but entirely different as well.”  
“Okay, okay. I have one question, though. Cassie was a Hatstall, Slytherin and Gryffindor, right? How does that match up with resembling you?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco grinned. “I don’t know, how might that resemble me, Potter? What do you think?”  
“You definitely were no Hatstall, I remember your Sorting very clearly. The Hat had no doubt about which House you belonged to.”  
“Perhaps the Hat was prejudiced against my name.”  
“Are you saying that you secretly are a Gryffindor?” Potter asked incredibly.  
Draco shook his head laughing. “No, I’m not. But I do think that I have changed since my Hogwarts days –I sincerely _hope_ I have- and I know that some of my friends have commented on how I’ve almost become Gryffindor-ish. I blame the children for that.”  
“It’s always the children, isn’t it,” Potter shook his head mock-gravely. “Why, though?”  
“Why I blame the children? Well, all right, I could blame my marriage instead of my children. Or growing up. The thing is, over the years I have become rasher, and I’ve been… trying to do the right thing. ‘Be like Saint Potter,’ I thought to myself,” Draco grinned. Potter gave him a playful slap. “I just… some of the ‘do evil things because it’s interesting’ have lost their shine, you know? I can’t quite explain it, but looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moments where I have been distinctly Gryffindor in the way I raised my children.”

“Aha,” Potter nodded. “And why did that manifest in Cassie so much more than in the others?”  
“I can’t know for sure. Of course it has to do with her character, but I also think perhaps because of her bad arm. I told you that Astoria didn’t want her to be healed whenever she had done something stupid, or when her arm was hurting. So when she was young, I really defied everything Astoria said, and I just Apparated her over to St. Mungo’s when she had hurt herself in any way. I was very Gryffindor-ish those days.”

Potter tutted smilingly. When he looked at Draco’s plate, he saw that Draco still hadn’t eaten more than that single bite, and his smile faded. “Malfoy… Malfoy, eat something. You’ll feel better when you do.”  
“That only works if it’s chocolate, Pothead. This doesn’t even remotely taste like chocolate.”  
“You can get chocolate if you eat a proper breakfast now, ferret.”  
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I can eat chocolate whenever I want, even if you disapprove.”  
“Yes, but will it result in the same satisfaction?”  
“Of course. I don’t need you to satisfy me.” He scrunched up his face when he realised what he had said. “That sounds wrong.”  
Potter started to laugh, nodding. “Well, if you eat proper breakfast, you’ll get chocolate from me. Deal?”

With a sigh, Draco picked up his fork and started eating. The bites he took were small and slow, and he scowled at his plate the entire time, but he ate.

_“ Chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions_   
_Paragraph 5: Draco Malfoy needs distraction, instead of dwelling on things_   
_1\. Papa needs every bit of distraction when he is sad, afraid or insecure. But, since he is terribly focussed, it is difficult to distract him. Chocolate will always help, but perhaps it’s not the best idea to stuff him with chocolate whenever he feels down._   
_2\. He isn’t good at distracting himself. He needs people around him to do that for him (even when they’re not aware that they serve as distraction)._   
_3\. He gets angry when people try to distract him, even when he knows it’s better for him. You’ll need a thick skin to survive this._

_There are a few ways to distract him. We already mentioned chocolate, which works the best, especially because he won’t get angry with you and it keeps him calm for at least a minute (that is long for papa!). Alas, he cares for his appearance and he won’t want to gain weight in difficult times. He usually tries to distract himself by gossiping, or, less immorally, by observing people. He likes to do that. Don’t be surprised when he comes to tell you all the tiny habits and tells of people around him, after he went through something. It’s his way of dealing._

_ Drawbacks and benefits _   
_\- As we said, he gets angry when you try to distract him. He’s a bit of a martyr, he likes suffering and self-pity. He’s weird, we know._   
_\- He can get really depressed for a while, and he’ll pretend he is fine, but he isn’t. Take care of this._   
_\+ It does result in good gossiping material. Papa is the best in spotting things people don’t want anyone to know. It’s great. Honestly._   
_\+ If he shows the results from his distraction to you, you are most definitely in his inner circle. Congrats!”_

* * *

 

Draco had cut off his last class of the afternoon early, to gather his stuff and wait for Albus to come down, so they could visit Scorpius together. When he entered the common room, he saw a new SHS note hanging off the mantle and grinned. He would read it when he came back from the hospital. Scorpius first.

Albus came barging into the common room, saying that he was ready. Together, they walked off the Hogwarts premises, after which Draco Side-Alonged Albus to St. Mungo’s. Scorpius’s room was empty, except for the machines, bed and Scorpius himself.

“Shit,” Albus mumbled. While Draco moved the two chairs closer to the bed and occupied one himself, Albus remained in the doorway, staring at Scorpius.

He looked better than last night, Draco mused, but that wasn’t very surprising. His eyes were lightly coloured, remnants of the punches he had gotten. His nose was straightened, but a bit swollen still. His arms and hands presented more bruises that couldn’t be healed with one wave of a wand. Because of the way he was lying in bed, his inner left arm was turned up. The scar Terence and Priscus had given him was more visible than ever, pink, ragged lines on pale skin. Draco’s eyes flicked back to his face, which was an unhealthy grey.

At least there was no blood anymore.

“Mr. Malfoy? You said he will be all right, yeah?” Albus asked, having sat down in the second chair on the other side of the bed.  
Draco nodded. “The Healers have faith in it.” He looked at Albus, observing the way he looked at Scorpius and worried his lower lip.  
“And you?”  
“I try to believe what they tell me.”

For a long while, the only sounds were the beeping of the heart monitor and the bustle outside Scorpius’s room. Draco rested his head back, holding his son’s far too cold hand.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Albus started again. “Why did those men beat Scorpius?”  
“You know you can call me Draco,” Draco smiled, trying to postpone answering for just a few seconds. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”  
Albus chuckled, after which his eyes sharpened again and he turned to face Draco.

Sighing, Draco sat up straighter and gripped Scorpius’s hand between the both of his. “All right. So these men were drunk. They insulted me.”  
“Oh no. Did they really?” Albus groaned, apparently guessing what happened afterwards.  
Draco hummed. “I walked away, and I really thought Scorpius was following me, I really did. The other three thought so as well. Until we realised that he wasn’t. If I had _known_ –“  
“Don’t think like that. It was a bit Scorp’s fault as well. He is stupid enough to provoke brawling men. You couldn’t have prevented it.”

Draco answered with an absent hum –not denying it, but definitely not agreeing. They kept quiet for another ten minutes, in which Draco thought that Albus really was a lot like Scorpius, in the way he didn’t mind long silent periods for each to tend to their own reflection.

“So Albus. Tell me,” Draco demanded then, with a small smile.  
“What?”  
“About his love life. Come on, tell me.”  
“What? No, no, I can’t. I promised –“  
“I know he doesn’t have a crush anymore on Theresa Zarnel. Am I correct?”  
“Mr. Malfoy, Draco, I really can’t. It’s a secret!”  
Draco chuckled. “Relax, Albus, I already know. I’m only looking for confirmation. He won’t mind that much.”  
“No, but really, he said no one –“  
“I know who the SHS is about.”

Albus protests fell silent. He turned to face Draco with wide eyes. “You do?”  
“Yes. It’s only fair right? I give you some information, you give me?”  
“No. No, I won’t,” Albus shook his head firmly. “Because I also know who it’s about.”  
“Of course you do,” Draco teased. He grinned lightly. “But _I_ know who started this SHS.”

Draco and Albus stared at each other for a few seconds, both measuring the other. Albus narrowed his eyes in suspicion when Draco smirked, so confident in his own success.

“All right, if you’re not willing to talk, I’ll start.” Draco lifted his hand to his chin and tapped it twice in thought. “Where shall I start? Ah yes. The girl is a Slytherin –“  
“Is this the SHS or Scorpius?”  
“Scorpius. You know the Slytherin from the SHS isn’t a girl. Don’t you?” Draco winked. Albus did a valiant job of trying to seem disinterested and calm, but his curiosity was shown in the twitch of his nose.

“Anyway, the girl Scorpius likes is a Slytherin, a year under you and Scorp. She’s got strawberry blond hair, always up in a ponytail. She’s pretty smart, too.”  
“All right, _yes_ , you’ve got it right. That’s the one Scorpius is in love with,” Albus huffed.  
Draco snapped his eyes at Albus. “In love? That serious?”  
“Yes. He’s head over heels. Now tell me about the SHS.”  
“I thought you already knew who it was about.”  
“I do. I want to know who started it.”

Hesitating for just a second and looking up at the window to see a bird sailing by, Draco nodded slowly. “I’ll give you a description. If you can guess correctly, I won’t ask more about Scorpius and you can keep your promise.”  
“Deal.”  
“All right,” Draco grinned. “Well, that person is obviously rather good with spells. It can’t be a first or second year, because the magic is far too complicated. I’d say fifth year or up. That is a hint, by the way. At the same time, this person is still interested in the love perils of… the couple this SHS is about.”  
“Just say it,” Albus snapped impatiently. “The couple of the SHS is young, I know. Lower than fourth year.”  
“Exactly. So, this person is still interested in the drama from second or third years. The only logical explanation is that this person is personally involved with either the boy or girl, let’s say because of family or friendship.”  
“This is starting to sound like a theory instead of knowing who it is. How did you find out, by the way?”  
“I can assure you, it’s not a theory. I am quite sure. How I found out is not your business,” Draco brushed his question aside. “I’m giving you my entire train of thought, making it easier for you to come to the right conclusion. You should thank me for this. But as I was saying, family or friendship bonds. This person also has a very thorough knowledge of how the SHS works, since he or she is making use of an unknown aspect of it.”  
“Namely?”  
“Namely that an SHS also works when it’s written, as long as a complicated spell is cast over the paper and the words. The complexity of the magic _and_ the use of this aspect is reason to think that he or she is not only magically capable, but also has a brilliant mind.”  
“All this makes me think it’s a seventh-year, rather than anything else. But I wouldn’t know any seventh-year that’s personally involved with… the SHS couple,” Albus mused. “Not even family or friends of the Gryffindor that could be friends with the Slytherin doing this.”  
“You can’t think of _anyone_?” Draco asked, having turned his attention back to the trees outside.  
“No one at all. Or that person doing the SHS isn’t a –“ He broke himself of, causing Draco to look back at him.

“No…” Albus whispered disbelievingly.  
“If that’s your response, you probably have the right one in mind,” Draco answered dryly.  
Albus just groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t realise earlier.

Draco laughed happily.

_“ Chapter 1: Parler á la Français_   
_Paragraph 1: Basic phrases_   
_Subparagraph a: For everyday use_   
_You may have noticed that papa has a tendency of muttering in French whenever something is bothering him or when he doesn’t know how to express himself in English. If you haven’t, pay more attention. To really understand him –and to fully seduce him- you should be able to speak a few words of French. Don’t worry if your pronunciation is shit: he will love to teach you._

  1. _Bonjour = good day/hello_
  2. _Bonsoir = good evening_
  3. _Bonne nuit = good night, when going to bed_
  4. _Ça va? = how are you?_
  5. _Je vais bien = I’m fine_
  6. _Ça va = I’m fine_
  7. _Merci = thank you_
  8. _Au revoir = goodbye_
  9. _Bien = good/fine_
  10. _Pourquoi? = why?_
  11. _A bientôt! = see you soon!_
  12. _Oui = yes_
  13. _Non = no_
  14. _Je suis désolé = I’m sorry (you’ll need this)_
  15. _Pardon! = excuse me!_
  16. _Je m’appelle Harry = My name is Harry_
  17. _Monsieur = mister/sir_
  18. _Madame = mrs./madam/ma’am_
  19. _Mademoiselle = miss (applicable for Aquila an Cassiopeia, which papa does rather often)_
  20. _Papa = well, papa. Father. Dad. You know, papa. Duh._



* * *

 

When Draco and Albus returned, it was just in time for dinner. Potter seemed fidgety when Draco sat down next to him.

“What’s going on, Potter? Why are you so restless?” Draco frowned. “Out with it.”  
“What? Oh no, there’s nothing. Just thinking.”  
“What could you be thinking about that makes you nervous like a schoolgirl on her way to asking the seventh-year Quidditch captain to the Yule Ball?”  
Potter chuckled. “Actually, I was about to ask you how you were, but if you’re going to be acting like this, I’ll just not care.”  
“Why would you be nervous about asking me how I am? I appreciate it when you do that, you know. I’m glad you don’t seem to forget that Scorpius is in the hospital.”  
“Of course I won’t. He’s your _son_ and my son’s best friend. Anyway, I wanted to, ehm…”

Draco looked at him curiously, tilting his head just a bit, patiently waiting for Potter to get his act together.

“Okay, so I wanted to ask, what was it, well, ehm… Ça va?” Potter uttered.  
Eyebrows rising, Draco couldn’t contain his smile. “That’s what got you so nervous? No need for that, it sounded well enough. Je vais bien, merci. Et toi?” At Potter’s quick blinking and stunned expression, Draco laughed softly. “I said that I was doing all right, and I asked how you were. Let’s go slow. ‘Je vais bien’, that’s ‘I’m fine’.”  
“I know!” Potter nodded. “’Je vais’ is a pronoun with a verb, and ‘bien’ means ‘good’ or ‘fine’. And then you said ‘merci’, right? That means ‘thank you.’”  
“Very good,” Draco smiled. “When translated literally, it means ‘I am going well’, since ‘vais’ comes from ‘aller’, to go. It’s an irregular verb.”

Potter nodded again, and sneaked a look at his hand.

“What are you looking at?” Draco asked. When Potter hid his hand behind his back, Draco squinted at him and tugged at his elbow. “Let me see what you’ve got there.”

Potter resisted, but sighed in defeat and lied his hand down on the table. Draco folded his palm open, turning his hand to the light so he could see clearly.

“Do you actually have a bunch of French phrases written on your hand?” he questioned incredibly. “Just so you good ask me how I was in French?”

Shrugging, Potter tried to get his hand back, but Draco held it in a tight hold. When he finally looked up at Potter, there was an undeniably fond look on his face and his smirk was warm. He tucked the loose strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes behind his ear and looked away.

“I… I thought… You know that first night at Hogwarts, when Phi told me that you spoke French? He said it was because you could express yourself better that way, and that you really like the language. So I thought, you know, to make you feel better,” Potter explained stammering. He heard a huff coming from Draco, making him feel rather stupid, until Draco turned towards him with a brilliant smile on his face.

“You’re cute, Potter. I do feel better now. Next time, write it on a paper. It might make it less illegible.”  
“So there will be a next time?”  
“If you like to keep saying random things in French to me, I won’t stop you. I rather like it myself,” Draco shrugged, taking a small bite.  
Potter grinned. “Even with my horrible pronunciation?”  
“Oh, Potter,” Draco sighed. “There are worse things about you than your French pronunciation.”  
“Really? I thought you liked it.”  
“Whyever would you think that?”  
“I don’t know. Perhaps because you like _me_?” Potter dared to ask, in a soft tone so he wouldn’t be heard by the other teachers.

Draco paused the movement of his fork to his mouth in shock. He licked his lips once, scrunched up his nose for a second, swallowed twice and itched his temple.

“Do I?”  
“That’s what you said. Christmas Day.”  
“So I did.”  
“And I can’t think of something I did since then to make you suddenly dislike me.”  
“Me neither.”  
“Which leads me to the conclusion that you still do. Like me.”  
“Acceptable train of thought.”  
“And that only makes me wonder.”  
“About?”  
“What is keeping you.”  
“From?”  
“From… acting on it. I know you said it was because you needed to get your head together. And I’m still willing to give you time. But I’d like some update on how it’s going.”  
“Potter –“  
“Because I’m really quite gone for you, even going as far as trying to learn a language with far too many vowels and strange tongue-twisting sounds.”

Huffing out a laugh, Draco swallowed once more. “This is a conversation for somewhere private. I believe I was promised chocolate this morning for eating breakfast?”  
Potter chuckled. “Yeah, you were. I’ve got a bar in my apartment, if you want.”  
“I want.”

The Great Hall was practically empty by the time Draco and Potter stood up to move to the Gryffindor Tower, to Potter’s apartment. Potter quickly prepared two cups of tea and laid out a bar of white hazelnut chocolate of Draco’s favourite brand.

“Merlin, Potter, are you trying to get me to grovel?” Draco groaned upon seeing that, and tasting that his tea was _exactly_ like he preferred it, with the perfect amount of tea leaves –no tea bag!- and sugar.

Potter merely smiled and cast a discrete look at the book the Malfoy children had written, hidden underneath a pile of essays he was supposed to read before tomorrow.

“All right, give me some chocolate and we’ll talk,” Draco then demanded, reaching for the bar already.  
Potter snatched it away from him, receiving a dark look. “No. We’re doing it the other way around. You talk and I give you chocolate if I’m satisfied.”  
“You’ll just eat it all before I’ve finished!”  
“I don’t even like white chocolate, Malfoy.”  
“Fine.”

Draco folded his legs under his body and leaned against the arm rest, holding his tea close and looking at the shelves with pictures and books.

“So, like I said, I needed some time to get my head together. I told you the risks outweighed the profits. I think you may realise that the profits, in this case, is you and your children and your family. That’s really… something I would like to be part of.  
“And my children wouldn’t mind at all. Cassie made that rather clear, a few weeks back. She actually told me that they wouldn’t mind, whatever happened. She is fond of Lily, Scorpius and Albus already call each other brothers and Aquila has become good friends with James. Phi can’t stop talking about Teddy and Victoire.  
“Scorpius and Dominique are awful together, in their pragmatic mischievousness. And no one knows what they’re talking about, because they’ve created their own language, combining French and English and German!  
“Cassie and Aquila look up to Ron and Ginny, Phi wants to be like Hermione, Scorpius almost wet his pants when he first met Charlie. Mother wants nothing more than become sisters again with Aunt Andromeda.”

Draco fiddled with a loose thread from the pillow he was leaning against.

“So I really, _really_ want my family to be part of yours. It already is, in a way, and that makes it so easy to fall into… whatever the two of us have. It feels as if there is nothing holding me back.”  
“Then why are you?”  
“Because our families aren’t the only things that has an opinion on all this. It’s _you_ and _me_ , Potter. How are we supposed to manage it? You’re… _you_ , the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Boy Wonder, you know, _the one who killed Riddle when he was only a baby_. And again when you were eleven, and seventeen and every time in between. And then there’s me, the poster boy of the next generation Death Eaters. Scorpius is in the hospital, because of my history. If we would be together, the entire Wizarding society of Great Britain would fall all over it.”

Potter ripped the package of the chocolate and offered Draco a piece, making him smile.

“Thanks. That article, and the letters we both got on the day of the duel, that’s only the least of what could happen if we were to be… A couple. And if a group of drunk men would do this to Scorpius –to our family- even if I had done nothing to reignite their hate, then I’m afraid to think of what might happen if we told everyone that we were in a relationship. I can’t do that to my children. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Potter said when he was sure Draco was done talking. “I do understand. That’s why I want to give you the time you need.” He sat thinking for a few moments. “At the beginning of this talk, you used past tense. You said you ‘needed’ time and the risks ‘outweighed’ the profits. Was that intentional?”

Draco chuckled. “Everything I do is intentional, Potter. So yes. I’ve got my head cleared. At least, I think I do. And lately, I’ve started to notice that I quite liked Christmas and New Year’s.”  
“Even when I was snuggling up to you and taking all your space?”  
“Especially then. Potter, I don’t hold people’s hands without reason. I loved the way we were sitting then, with my children and yours around us and your friends and family.”  
“They’re your friends now, too, you know.”

Smiling, Draco took a sip from his tea. “I suppose.”  
“So, where are we standing now?”  
“I want to be with you. Very much,” Draco admitted quietly. “But, if you don’t mind, let’s wait until this mess with Scorpius is solved. I fear I’ll ruin our relationship two hours in, if we start now.”

Potter picked up his tea and sunk down on the couch, next to Draco, with the chocolate bar in his hand. “I think it’s time for chocolate,” he announced.

Draco laughed and let himself be pushed into the cushions, while Potter leant his back to Draco’s chest and started marking essays and assignments, handing a couple to Draco to read over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like always, I NEED COMMENTS TO BREATHE.
> 
> And we had a bit of unveiling secrets from the SHS. Who do you think is the SHS couple? And who is writing those notes? Tell me what you think!
> 
> Also, tell me your Draco headcanons, 'cause I love them and I might use them for that 'How to deal with Draco Malfoy 101' book for this story. Thanks :D


	35. A Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and a bit of angst. Mostly fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arghhh I'm so sorry I'm late again! I had time enough last weekend, but it just didn't work. So I may have postponed the chapter to this weekend, instead of last... Can you forgive me? *pout* *wide-eyed pout* *wide-eyed pout with tears brimming* *wide-eyed pout with tears brimming and a trembling lower lip* *wide-eyed pout with tears brimming and a trembling lower lip and a hesitant, hopeful smile* Please?
> 
> And thanks for all of your love! I feel fine now, so you've helped. Yay!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter =^D

_“ Chapter 3: Characteristics_  
_Paragraph 4: The “Don’ts” of Draco Malfoy_  
_1\. Do not insult his family, or think badly of it, or hold prejudice against it. His family consists of blood relatives, friends and –important to remember- Slytherin House._  
_2\. Do not call him by his middle name (you have already made this mistake once, but make sure you will not do it again). He loves Grandfather very much, but is adamant about not becoming him._  
_3\. Do not bother him when he is in his office. You can tell by his door whether you may come in. Open = you are welcome. Half-open = only when it’s important, or you have an appointment or he likes you. Closed = DO NOT COME IN, YOU IDIOT, STAY AWAY or he loves you and you are welcome._

_Papa is quite tetchy, as you undoubtedly know. He can blow up over the smallest things and freeze you out when you have no idea what you have done. He is incredibly good at making people think that they are worth nothing to him. The three don’ts mentioned above, are ways to make sure that he doesn’t cut you off. If you think hard, most times he has been angry with you, are variations on those three bullet points. At least, in our experience._

_ Drawbacks and benefits _  
_\- He overreacts. Don’t underestimate his dramatic flair, because it will hunt you when you have crossed either one of the don’ts._  
_\- It’s difficult to tell whether the door to his office is open of half-open, and sometimes he forgets to close it and will blame you._  
_\+ It is rather easy to ensure he won’t get angry, as long as you follow these rules._  
_\+ Most people have more don’ts than papa does, so rejoice in his simplicity.”_

* * *

 

Potter went down to Draco’s office in the dungeons, to see whether he was ready to leave. They were about to go to the hospital and visit Scorpius. Potter hadn’t been to St. Mungo’s yet, because every time he had offered, Draco had shot him down, smiling and ensuring Potter that he was fine.

Potter didn’t need the children’s book to know that Draco wasn’t _fine_ whenever he said he was.

He encountered a closed door. The explanation of the door to the office may have been the most direct order he had gotten from the Malfoys about how to deal with Draco. Even though the ‘open door/closed door’ rule was quite common, it said something that the children had considered it important enough for the book. Apparently, Draco was _very_ strict on this rule.

And now the door was closed, and light shone from beneath it. Draco was there, that much was clear. Potter hesitated just long enough to card his hand through his hair, before he pushed down the handle and pushed in.

Of all things, he hadn’t expected Draco to be sleeping. And drooling. Slightly. On some parchment.

“Malfoy,” he whispered. “Malfoy, wake up. We were going to see Scorp.”  
“Hm? How did you get in?” Draco mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I thought the door was closed.”  
Potter smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”  
“No, it’s all right. You’re right, we should go. Let’s go.”

While Draco gathered a coat, a bar of chocolate –which he thought Potter didn’t notice- and identification papers, Potter worked on suppressing his grin. A grin wasn’t the proper expression for going to the hospital, especially not when going to visit the unconscious son of a guy he really likes. But the knowledge that Draco liked _him_ enough to not get angry when Potter waltzed into his office like that, made the grin annoyingly persistent. Although, by now it shouldn’t be a surprise anymore, that Draco liked him. It’s been made quite obvious over the last few weeks.

In silence, they walked away from the Hogwarts premises, Apparating to St. Mungo’s and meeting each other at the reception.

“This way,” Draco pointed, steering Potter with a hand on the small of his back to the right hallways. “You seem to know the way,” Potter tried as a joke, but faltered when he realised how inappropriate it was.  
Draco just sent him an unamused look and pushed him through another hallway. “One would have thought you knew your way around here, with the amount of times you’ve been admitted in your Auror time.”  
“How do you know that I’ve been admitted so often?” Potter asked bewildered.  
“I didn’t,” Draco smirked. “It was an educated guess, based on what I know of your reckless idiocy.

Potter laughed, but it was cut short when Draco swung open the door to Scorpius’s room. He looked just as grey as he had every previous day. His chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, but that was the only movement in his body. Draco felt nauseous, seeing his son like that.

“So how long will they keep him asleep?” Potter asked, having sat down on the bed.  
“They’ve stopped administering sedatives and sleeping potions. It’s now a matter of the body readjusting to life, and waking up.”  
“Do they know how long it will take?”  
Draco shook his head, going to sit on the chair at the window. “Healer Thornbecke said that it shouldn’t take long, because he’s only been unconscious for a week. But he can’t say anything for sure.”  
“It must be really shitty for you,” Potter sympathised.  
Snorting, Draco rolled his eyes. “What a sharp observation, Potter. Truly, I am marvelled.”

A grin later, they were silent, both looking at Scorpius. Draco frowned at something, seemingly worried.

“Do you want me to step outside for a second?” Potter inquired tentatively.  
Draco looked up with a snap of his head. He searched Potter’s face for a moment, but nodded. Before the door was closed behind Potter, he heard Draco humming softly, leaning forward to press his forehead against Scorpius’s hands.

“Scorpius, please tell me you’re all right,” Draco whispered. “Love, I need to know that you will be all right.”

He bit his lip, closing his eyes and wrapping both hands around Scorp’s. His humming slowly developed into soft singing, the song he always sang for Scorpius, in the hope that Scorpius might hear it through his unconsciousness.

_“How much of my mother has my mother left in me?_  
_How much of my love will be insane to some degree?_  
 _What about this feeling that I’m never good enough?_  
 _Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?”_

He pressed a kiss to Scorpius’s shoulder and leant back in his chair.

“ _How much of my father am I destined to become?_  
_Will I dim the lights inside me just to satisfy someone?_  
 _Will I let this woman kill me, or do away with jealous love?_  
 _Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?”_

He saw Scorpius’s fingers spasm for a moment. “Scorp?” Draco murmured. When he got no response, he clenched his jaw and accepted that he had just imagined the movement.

“ _I can feel the love I want, I can feel the love I need_  
_But it’s never gonna come the way I am_  
 _Could I change it if I wanted, can I rise above the flood_  
 _Will it wash out in the water or is it always in the blood?”_

Potter peeked curiously through the small window in the door, having heard some of the soft tones. He saw Draco resting his head on the back of the chair, looking at the ceiling. There was something about his fierce, royal posture that seemed distinctly vulnerable now. As if it was nothing more than a hologram behind which he was crumbling.

The last part of the song was hummed instead of sung, the notes echoing in the empty room. Potter slipped inside to sit on the armrest of Draco’s chair, and placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. Draco covered that hand with one of his own, the other still stroking Scorpius’s.

After a while, Potter sighed and moved to the other chair. He sighed again when he sat down, and huffed a second later.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked flatly, when the sighing and huffing didn’t stop.  
“Nothing. Why would anything be wrong?”  
“Do you want to go back?”  
“No, we can stay as long as you want to. It’s fine, Malfoy. I’m fine right here,” Potter nodded emphatically.  
Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for dinner otherwise.” He had to suppress a laugh when Potter shot up and happily started walking. That man was restless.

_“ Chapter 5: Chocolate and Ice Cream_  
_Paragraph 1: The Basics_  
_1\. Chocolate and ice cream are not only a treat for papa, but it also indicates his mood. Make sure you understand those hints._  
_2\. Do not ever change the brand, storage place or moment of eating without consulting papa first._  
_3\. Do not make fun of this quirk of his; if you do, you will be ostracised. Immediately._

_Papa is a creature of habit, and with reason. He says that almost every change in his life preceded something bad, except for his divorce of our mother. So, the basics of this chapter are:  
\- Favourite flavour: white hazelnut for chocolate, and chocolate chip cookie dough for ice cream  
\- Favourite brand: Ritter Sport for chocolate, and Ben and Jerry’s for ice cream  
\- When to eat: Chocolate will be eaten every season of the year and every time of the day, but only when he is feeling: sad, happy, melancholy, determined, insecure, afraid or thoughtful. Ice cream will be eaten after dinner and on weekdays, _ not _weekends, but only when he is feeling angry or desperate._  
_\- Where to store: in the Malfoy Lodge, Malfoy Manor and his apartment at Hogwarts, papa has one cupboard full of chocolate. There are many flavours, not only white hazelnut, because the flavour he chooses usually has something to do with his mood as well (but you’ll have to find out for yourself). The cupboard is organised according to flavour and brand, and thus, according to his moods. Do not ever change this organisation!_  
_Ice cream has the same kind of organisation, but in the upper drawer of the fridge. This collection is much smaller, but just as strict._

_In short, papa thinks he is difficult to read, but he isn’t. He has so many tells beside his body language. You only have to know how to read him. Don’t worry, we’ll help you until you are proficient!  
_

* * *

 

“You look like you could use some ice cream,” Potter frowned when he and Draco exited the Great Hall after dinner. Upon hearing Aquila’s snort, who had overheard, he winked at her.  
Draco shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve been stuffing myself with chocolate lately, I shouldn’t add ice cream to the mix.” He nodded at a few Slytherin students that walked past and answered a quick question about Scorpius. “However much I want to,” he sighed then.

Potter smiled understandingly, but was already thinking of what he could do to make Draco eat some ice cream. His musing was broken when Lily called out to him.

“Dad, when do we have that Defense test again? Shania said it was next week, but I thought it was in two weeks,” she asked. “And if it’s next week, I’m behind on planning, and my grade will drop.”  
Potter chuckled. “Lily, you will be okay. It’s in two weeks. And even if it _was_ next week, you would still get an O. It’s your best class!”  
“But I’m only good at it because I work so hard. I can’t do it in just one week.”  
“Yes, you can. You’re my daughter, I don’t think you could actually be _bad_ at it,” Potter laughed. When he saw Lily’s lower lip form in a pout, he pulled her in for a quick hug. “Sweetheart, of course you will do fine. You always do. You still have two weeks to prepare, yeah?”

After Lily had calmed down somewhat, she smiled at him, slanting a look at Draco. “How are they? How is Scorp?”  
“He’s all right, I think. Not as bad as I had feared, not as good as I had hoped. He’s off sedatives, so now we’re just waiting for him to wake up.”

Lily nodded seriously, glancing at Draco again, who was talking to Manila, the Gryffindor girl Albus was rumoured to have a crush on. At least, the rumour was only known to James, Potter and Draco, and probably Scorpius as well.

“Will you make sure that Draco is okay? Cassie said that she’s worried about him, and she doesn’t know what to do.”  
“Why is she worried?”  
“She knows her papa, I guess,” Lily shrugged. “And she told me that vermillion robes are bad.”  
When Potter frowned, pretending to understand what his daughter was talking about, Lily chuckled. “Vermillion is the colour of the robes he’s wearing now.”  
“Ah. Of course.”

Potter smiled sheepishly, saying goodbye to Lily and catching up to Draco and Manila.

“ – date would be fine, too? And you are sure he would say yes?” Potter overheard Manila asking. Draco smiled brilliantly at her, but shushed her next question as soon as he noticed Potter. Manila nodded once before she left.

“So Malfoy, I need your help with something,” Potter announced, following Draco to his apartment in the dungeons.  
“You need my help in so many things, the least of which is your fashion sense and a new hairstyle. You might also want an expert eye to look at those glasses you still insist on wearing. If all that is fixed, there is a humble list of other things –“  
“Shut up, will you?” Potter deadpanned. Draco turned to him with a smirk and an arched eyebrow, obviously intending to sum up other points of improvement, but Potter cut him off by pushing him away, laughing.

“As I was saying, I have a question,” he continued, when Draco joined him again. “Why does everyone, _literally_ everyone, come to you for relationship advice?”  
Draco grinned. “Oh no, Potter, I don’t do relationship advice. People have to sort out their relationships by themselves.”  
“Dating advice then.”  
“Wrong again.”  
“Well, it’s not just boy advice, because you also helped James get a date with a girl.”  
Sniggering, Draco flicked his hair. “It’s love advice, Potter. I’m a love expert.”  
“You said you had never fallen in love before!” Potter exclaimed.  
“Tsk,” Draco scolded. “That doesn’t stop me from giving out the best love advice anyone can get! My picture of love is still intact, untainted by reality. Which is why my love advice is infallible, unerring and undeserving for the foul and the cynic.”

Potter opened the door to Draco’s apartment and set about preparing tea while Draco sunk down on the sofa. “You really are an idiot, you know. Here.”  
Draco eyed the bowl of ice cream Potter handed him with narrowed eyes. “Why did you get me ice cream?”  
“Because I want ice cream, but it’s your food, so it would be impolite to take it without giving you some as well. Aren’t you proud of me, that I finally learn what politeness means?”  
“Then why did you get me the biggest portion?” Draco asked, ignoring Potter’s question.  
“I already ate some chunks in the kitchen. You like Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, don’t you?”

Still casting suspicious glances at Potter, Draco dug in and emptied the bowl in record speed. When the tea kettle whistled, he jumped up to get it, calling over his shoulder, “Why don’t you put some music on?”

Potter walked over to the big box of Wizarding Music Discs, and began rifling through it. At a certain moment, he started laughing so loudly, that Draco spilled a bit of tea he was carrying into the room.

“What?” Draco asked.  
Potter only laughed harder, holding up three WMD’s of High School Musical. Draco cleared his throat and tried to grab the WMD’s from Potter, but couldn’t move fast enough because of the tea. Before he could put the tea down and gain hold of the WMD’s, Potter had already cast the spell that would start playing the songs.

The first notes of _Get’cha Head in the Game_ sounded, with Potter dancing along. Only when _Start of Something New_ began, Draco allowed himself to join in, singing the parts of Gabriella while Potter was Troy, releasing bursts of laughter on Potter’s ridiculous dance moves. During _Can I Have This Dance_ , Potter pulled Draco close, holding him tight.

Draco hummed the rest of the melody to them both, burying his nose in the crook of Potter’s neck and inhaling the scent he knew so well. He felt Potter smile against his cheek.

“I’ve got to show you something,” Draco whispered, pulling back. “It’s a little awkward, so… Actually, it’s _very_ awkward.”

He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a green cardigan in his hand. “I believe this is yours.”  
Potter frowned. “No, it’s not. I don’t own cardigans.”  
“Oh, right.” Draco grabbed his wand and undid the Glamour he had cast over it. “Don’t be angry.”

When the Glamour fell off, it revealed a shabby red hoodie with a lion printed on the front. Potter’s eyes widened. “Is that…”  
“Yes.”  
“How…”  
“See, that’s the _very_ awkward part.” Draco sat back down on the sofa, indicating that Potter do the same. “I saw it lying around –“ A grin spread on his face. “Pardon me, _lion_ ’ around.” He chuckled at his own joke, shaking his head. “Anyway, I saw it at a S.P.E.W. event. I think I already knew it was yours, but I took it home because it looked comfortable. And it smelt pretty good.”  
“What?”  
“I told you it would be embarrassing. You better not ridicule me, Potter, or we’re over.”  
“Oh? Is there a ‘we’ to be ‘over’ then?” Potter teased, picking up the hoodie from Draco’s lap.  
“Bugger off, Potter.”  
“Okay, I have one more question, and I promise I don’t ask to embarrass you. If you’ve been wearing that hoodie for a while now, which I assume you have, since the Glamour was pretty recent, wouldn’t my smell sort of… wear off?”

Smiling faintly, Draco signalled that Potter should smell it. At Potter’s surprised look, he chuckled. “Scent-preserving spell. Mostly used to keep a pleasant smell in bathrooms and kitchens, or in restaurants to attract customers. Not so often used on a hoodie, though.”

Potter started grinning widely. “You know what? You can keep the hoodie. I’ve got more where that came from.”  
“Thanks,” Draco stated sarcastically. “Forgiven for being weird?”  
“A long time ago.”

“Preface of ‘How to Deal with Draco Malfoy 101: A guide for the determined lover/friend/whatever you guys are’.  
_Terms and Conditions_  
_This book is written by Draco Malfoy’s four Children. It is a project in the best interest of you (Mr. Harry Potter) and him (Mr. Draco Malfoy). And perhaps also in the best interest of Messieurs Scorpius and Ophiuchus Malfoy, and Madams Aquila and Cassiopeia Malfoy. It may also be in the best interest of Mr. and Mrs. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Ms. Pansy Parkinson, Mr. Blaise Zabini and Mr. Gregory Goyle. There is a slight possibility that Messieurs James and Albus Potter, Hugo, Fred II and Louis Weasley, Edward Lupin, and Madams Lily Potter, Rose, Roxane, Victoire, Dominique, Molly II and Lucy Weasley will benefit. It is not unthinkable that Messieurs Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron and Arthur Weasley, and Madams Fleur, Audrey, Angelina, Ginny and Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley will profit of this book as well._

_This book is written for the sole use of you, Mr. Harry Potter. No other than above-named Madams and Messieurs are allowed to know of this book, and no other than you and the Malfoy Children™ are allowed to know the content of this book. It is a family secret that is to be preserved. If you are bright enough to understand that, with this book, you are officially welcomed into the Malfoy Family™, you are also bright enough to understand the sanctity of this secret and the dangers if it becomes public knowledge. Consequences of unveiling the secret of the Holy Guide™ to those who are not to know, are:_  
_1\. Being ostracised from the Malfoy Family™_  
_2\. Being repelled by the Malfoy Lodge (we can actually do this, papa taught us the charms to keep unwanted visitors away)_  
_3\. Being repulsed by the Malfoy Circle™, consisting of the Malfoy Children™, Mr. and Mrs. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Ms. Pansy Parkinson, Mr. Blaise Zabini and Mr. Gregory Goyle._  
_4\. Being irrevocably abolished from our minds_  
_5\. Being the victim of insults and hexes from the Malfoy Children™ and perhaps the Malfoy Circle™_

_As you may realise, it is not wise to tell Mr. Draco Malfoy of this book, as he may feel it a violation of his privacy. If, however, he finds out about this book, he will either:_  
_1\. Require to be stuffed with chocolate and ice cream by the Malfoy Children™, and have a hard time forgiving you (in this case, you will, of course, receive our help in making it up to him)_  
_2\. Be completely all right with it because he is utterly and completely gone for you_  
_We hope for your and our sakes that the outcome will be the latter, but it might be best if the existence of this book will not be disclosed to our dear papa, until he is unable to stop himself from falling for you._

_Now that this is clear to you and to us, we ask you to place your signature in the allotted space (indicated with ‘Signature of Acknowledgement and Approval by Mr. Harry Potter’) to demonstrate you concede and agree to the Terms and Conditions._

_We thank you for your understanding and hope for the best of outcomes. You are allowed to ask us about anything you read, as long as the terms and conditions are followed. Your questions, remarks and thoughts will be confidential, and only shared with the Malfoy Children™. Trust our discretion and infinite knowledge of our papa._

_Sincerely,  
__Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_ _  
__Aquila Auriga Malfoy_  
_Cassiopeia Circinus Malfoy_  
_Ophiuchus Orion Malfoy_

* * *

  
Later in the evening, when Aquila and Cassie had said their goodnights and Phi was fast asleep in the bedroom, Potter and Draco were lounging on the sofa, with Draco leaning his back against Potter’s chest.

“I’m tired,” Draco murmured, not wanting to speak out loud and break the mood.  
“Then go to bed.”  
“I don’t want to.”  
Potter huffed a laugh. “Make up your mind, you idiot.”  
“Don’t call me an idiot, I’m in a vulnerable state right now.”  
“About Scorpius?” Potter frowned.  
Draco rolled his eyes, and Potter knew he did. “I was kidding.”  
“No, you weren’t,” Potter insisted. “You are worried about Scorpius. Why? What’s going through your mind right now?”

Sighing, Draco sat up a bit and turned to face Potter, now leaning into the backrest of the sofa. Potter tugged him close again, so that Draco’s head rested on his chest and they could see each other if either one wished to.

“I just don’t know how he is. I’m afraid he won’t make it. And what am I supposed to do when Scorpius dies?”  
“But the Healers are all so positive. They are certain that Scorp will make it through. Healer Thornbecke said that there was no reason to think he wouldn’t wake up.”  
Potter felt Draco sigh again, while Draco’s fingers fiddled with Potter’s shirt. “I know what he said. But what if they’re wrong? Or what if he does wake up, but doesn’t recognise anything? What if he doesn’t want me around?”  
“He will regain his memory, if such a thing would happen. Magical spells and therapy against memory loss has improved greatly.”  
“They haven’t checked his brain, Potter. Perhaps the punches have affected his brain. Perhaps he won’t be able to walk anymore, or even write. He would just be moving around in a wheelchair or something, and he won’t be able to _stand_ such dependence. Or, you know, he could have been injured so seriously that he will wake up mentally, but his body won’t be able to work again. Ever. I’ve heard of such things. It happens.”

Potter lazily Accio’ed two mugs and the –luckily closed- kettle, and poured some tea for the both of them. Since they were practically lying down, they couldn’t drink it without moving, but it was the idea that counted.

“That won’t happen, Malfoy. Such things only happen when much worse has happened than being beaten up. I’m not trying to trivialize what happened, because it’s awful, and if I would find out who did this, I will release all my Boy Who Lived shit over them –“  
“That Boy Who Lived shit, as you call it, is _noble_ and _forgiving_ , so not much of a threat,” Draco interjected.  
“Not if I remind them that I killed Voldemort. That’ll frighten them. But anyway, the chances that Scorp won’t make it are slim. You don’t have to worry about it. It isn’t realistic to think that way.”  
“But what if it _becomes_ realistic? Potter, what am I supposed to _do_ when Scorpius doesn’t wake up, or is heavily disabled? He won’t be able to do the things he loves anymore. He will never realise his dreams, and girls will turn him down and _he may not recognise me anymore_! And what about Aquila? She would be devastated! She is already nervous and on the verge of a breakdown. If he won’t be the boy he used to be, I’m not sure she can cope. She needs her brother, Potter, more than Cassie or Phi need Scorpius. She can’t be on her own, all of a sudden, she needs to be part of a twin!”

An image of Fred and George flashed through Draco’s mind and he shivered. “Especially because Scorp won’t have died for a good cause.”

Potter bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, in order to keep himself from crying. “I understand. I really do. And trust me when I say that I feel the same fears. Perhaps a lesser version of them, but I feel them too. But I am telling you that you don’t need to worry, until the Healers say something is wrong. He will be all right. And you need to be cheered up. Are you in the mood for some music?”

Draco smiled faintly, sitting up to allow Potter to turn on the Wireless. “I’m not sure whether music can lift my spirits right now.”  
“I am not feeding you more chocolate or ice cream,” Potter said sternly, resulting in a slump of Draco’s shoulders. “But I can dance again.”

He started moving stiffly, retaining a solid poker face while carrying out the most awful dance moves, including a faulty Chicken Dance, a blundering Macarena and a completely unsuccessful Moonwalk.

“Tada!” Potter called out proudly, bowing. At Draco’s unimpressed stare, he frowned and squinted his eyes. “Are you not entertained? _Are you not entertained?!_ ”  
Draco merely shook his head and took a sip of his tea. Potter crowded his space, demanding eye contact. “Not entertained?” he pouted.  
“Not at all.”  
“What can I do? Repeat the Moonwalk? I’m good at that one, aren’t I? Or I could do the Traffic Control. Should I do that one?”

Potter prepared to do the Traffic Control, whatever that was, but Draco threw his head back and laughed.  
“No? You don’t want that? What do you want then? I don’t know many other dance moves. Should I sing for you? I’m not good at singing, but –“  
“Just kiss me already!” Draco laughed. His eyes widened when he realised what he had said. Potter had fallen silent, staring at Draco.

“Or dance some more. That works too,” Draco backtracked quickly, gulping down some more tea. Potter swallowed twice before he turned to the Wireless and increased the volume of it. “I would love to, by the way. If you’d let me.”  
Draco looked at his hands. “I know. Just… Let’s wait until I’m less of a bawling mess, all right?”  
“Whenever you’re ready.”

It was silent apart from the Wireless when Potter sat down next to Draco and drank his own tea.

“Why, though?” Draco asked suddenly.  
“Why wat?”  
“Why do you like me? I just can’t work it out.”

Potter chuckled. “Many things. Where should I start?”  
“Wherever you want.”  
“Well,” Potter seemed to think for a second, studying Draco’s features. “Let’s start simply. I like your hair.” He trailed a hand through Draco hair, twisting it around his fingers and tugging softly, before moving on to the rest of Draco’s face.

“I like your jaw. I like your chin. I know, it’s weird, but you’ve got a very attractive chin. I really like your eyes, because they say so much about what you feel. I like how you smell, as I may have admitted at New Year’s when I was slightly tipsy. I like your sarcasm, your humour, your pride. I hate your pride as well, but I guess it just depends on how you present it. I like your strength, your determination. I love the way you care for your children –“  
“Love?”  
“Oh yes. And everything you do for your friends. I love the presents you give. You are a talented gift-giver. I love how soft you are with students that need your help, and how relentless you are when someone keeps interrupting you. I love how you deal with your emotions, and how you try to make people think you are invincible. I love your insecurities, your internal struggles every time someone does something kind. I love how you opened up to me, and how you trust me. But most of all, I love the way you are. Every aspect of you.”

While Potter’s finger still trailed the lines and features of Draco’s face, Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

“What did my children tell you?”

Potter’s finger halted for a split second before it continued its route, almost going unnoticed by Draco. Almost.

“Nothing. What is there to tell?”  
“Potter. Be honest. What did they tell you?”  
“They said nothing.”  
“Those sneaky bastards,” Draco grumbled, gripping Potter’s wrist and staring in his eyes. “What did they do? A letter? Did they ask Pansy to tell you? Just tell me.”  
Potter chewed on his cheek, apparently measuring Draco’s mood to determine whether to say something or not. “A book.”  
“A _book_? How much did they have to say?” Draco exclaimed disbelievingly.  
“Everything? No, not everything, but the basics of everything. I think?”

Draco let himself fall into the cushions of the sofa, sighing. “I should have noticed sooner. The tea? Chocolate? The _French_? I’m such an idiot.”  
“Are you angry?”  
“What? No, why would I be?” Draco frowned. “Oh. No, I’m not angry. I mean, I would _never_ have thought that my children were _this_ sneaky, but it might be for the best. I don’t think you would have lasted long with me, if that book didn’t exist. Merlin, I have underestimated them. And here I was priding myself on my knowledge on them.”

Potter chuckled, relaxing back into Draco’s shoulder. “I think this is the peak of their scheming, though. I don’t think they will do much worse than this. So you’re okay with it?”  
“Potter, I’m _impressed_! I would _never_ have been this creative. And I assume everything is correct, and entirely fleshed out? Of course it is. Salazar and Godric _both_ , they are even more amazing than I thought!”

After their laughter had subsided, Potter turned his face to look at Draco. “Now do me,” he demanded quietly. “What do you like about me?”

Draco looked down at Potter and took a breath. “Well…” he started, pulling Potter closer.

When Potter left for his own apartment and dawdled at the door, and when Draco asked what he was waiting for, and when Potter answered with the question whether he could, perhaps, possibly, get a good night’s kiss, Draco only hesitated for a few seconds before he curled a hand around Potter hip and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. On his cheek.

Draco slept better than any night since Scorpius had landed in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send headcanons about Draco! I mean, does he write? Does he play an instrument? What's his favourite colour? What does he like best about Harry? What's his weak spot? Is he ticklish? Does he have long or short hair? Does he wear a ring? What kind of ring? Does he have a weak back? What shampoo does he use? Or does he use cleaning charms only?
> 
> And, most importantly, how capable is he of doing up his daughters's hair?!
> 
> Also, my [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com/) is pretty empty without you guys :'( Come say hi?


	36. Stuff that happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I may be a bit late? As in 5 days late? And I'm sorry? But I don't know what happened? And I use too many question marks now?
> 
> Any forgiveness out there that can be redirected to me?

_Chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions  
Paragraph 1: __Clothing & Cities_  
_1\. The clothing papa wears all have their own meanings, either in colour, fabric or fit. What they mean is difficult to find out and impossible to explain. It needs experience (and a keen eye)._  
_2\. Every mood has its own favourite city or country (also see chapter 5: Must Knows, paragraph 6: (Hiding Places & Travelling). You will be able to decipher his mood by the travelling guide on the cocktail table._  
_3\. It is not sure whether papa does this consciously or not, so it is very important to_ never mention these habits!

 _List of clothing and cities, with their respective moods_  
_-Light: positive; expect the mood of the colour to be twisted positively (before the slash)._  
_-Dark: negative; expect the mood of the colour to be twisted negatively (after the slash)._  
_-Patterned: he will not allow anyone to distract him of his mood._  
_-Non-patterned: he may allow you to distract him and consequently change his mood._  
_-Black: usually for formal events, no specific mood, unless he tries to be very severe and strict._  
_-White: usually for formal events, no specific mood. Think of weddings._  
_-Red: determined/stubborn_  
_-Orange: envious/jealous_  
_-Green: proud/arrogant_  
_-Blue: happy/overexcited_  
_-Grey: neutral/masking his sadness_  
_-Purple: nervous/afraid_  
_-Pink: irritated/angry_  
_-Vermillion: nostalgic/sad_  
_-Yellow: anticipation/apprehension_  
_-Beige: sympathetic/self-pitying_  
_-Silk: feeling suave, as if he can do anything. In colours red, green, blue and grey._  
_-Cotton: feeling trusting, only worn during family events. In every colour of his wardrobe._  
_-Vicuña: feeling very good about himself or needing encouragement from knowing that he looks -good. In colours red, green, blue, grey, purple, vermillion and beige._  
_-Wool (tweed): feeling cosy and comfortable or feeling slightly ill. In colours blue, grey and beige._  
_-Cashmere: everything else, in all colours of his wardrobe_  
_-Velvet: feeling lazy, only in classic fit and in the colours grey and yellow._  
_-Classic fit: his emotions are not very close to the surface_  
_-Modern fit: he will be able to control his emotions_  
_-Slim fit: his emotions will burst out very soon_

 _London, England: sympathetic/self-pitying_  
_Melksham, Wiltshire: determined/stubborn_  
_Polperro, Cornwall: happy/overexcited_  
_Hogsmeade, Scotland: nostalgic/sad_  
_La Fouly, Switzerland: neutral/masking his sadness_  
_Nice, France: envious/jealous_  
_Porto, Portugal: irritated/angry_  
_Istanbul, Turkey: anticipation/apprehension_  
_Marrakesh, Morocco: nervous/afraid_  
_Rome, Italy: proud/arrogant_

* * *

 

In the end, it had taken Scorpius another full week after he was taken off sedatives to wake up. And when he finally woke up, Draco hadn’t been there for him. He had just arrived at St. Mungo’s and dawdled in front of Scorpius’s door when he heard voices.

“But – stand up – fight for himself – then I’ll do it,” Draco heard Scorpius’s say in a hoarse whisper.  
“Scorp, you realise that it’s for the better, that he doesn’t fight. It’s better this way,” the second –obviously Potter’s- voice sounded. Scorpius mumbled something Draco didn’t hear, but it made Potter chuckle. “You should talk to him about this, not to me.”  
“He won’t listen to me! He thinks I need to control my temper and –“ Scorpius growled, but cut himself off when he saw Draco entering.

Draco rushed to his side and pressed a few hard kisses to his forehead. Scorpius smiled at him, clasped his hand before turning back to Potter.  
“We’ll continue this at a later time,” Potter swore with a glance at Draco. “I’m going to get something to drink. You want something, Malfoy?”

Shaking his head, Draco didn’t take his eyes of Scorpius. When the door closed, they frowned at each other. Scorpius took in his papa’s clothing. “How are you feeling, papa?”  
“How do you think I’m feeling?”  
“Why don’t you just tell me?”  
“It seems you’ve got your mind made up on how I’m feeling.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “All right then. You _do_ know it’s not your fault that I got beat up, right? You shouldn’t feel all guilty and sad.”  
“It kind of feels like it is my fault. If I had paid more attention to your presence –“  
“The only way you could have prevented it, was by standing up for yourself against those men.”  
“I –“  
“No excuses. Papa, come on! As long as you don’t fight for yourself, _I_ will do it. You should know that by now,” Scorpius exclaimed angrily, after which he was overcome by a coughing fit.

It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes, and he offered his son a few sips of water when the coughing had subsided.

“Was that what you and Potter were talking about just now?”  
There was a stubborn glint in Scorp’s eyes. “How are things between the two of you? Any changes?”  
“I don’t think that is important at the moment.”  
“It is, though. You can’t tell me that I’ve been unconscious for three weeks without any results in your relationship with him.”

Draco let out a surprised laugh, making Scorpius grin as well.

“But seriously, any news? You seem… different.”  
“Perhaps I seem different because my _son_ has gotten himself _beaten up_ and was _unconscious_ for three weeks. Does that sound plausible?” Draco said while raising an eyebrow.  
Scorpius pretended to think about it, but eventually shook his head. “No, not really. Come on, fill me in on everything happening at Hogwarts.”

Sighing fake-exasperatedly, Draco settled more comfortably in his chair and started talking, absently taking the cup of tea Potter had brought him.

“McGonagall is concerned about you and all of us, so I should tell her you’ve woken up as soon as I get back. She said she wanted to talk to you when you are up for it. Neville sends his love –“  
“So do all the Weasleys. Molly wanted to send you a get-well basket, so you’ll get that one once she hears you’ve woken up,” Potter interjected.  
Draco smiled fondly. “Dominique misses you incredibly. She’s been talking in that odd mix of languages you share, but no one understands her. Albus –“  
“- has been very quiet and distant.” Potter shrugged at Draco’s inquisitive look. “He has been afraid you wouldn’t wake up.”

Scorpius looked at his hands and nodded. “He better be. He’s my best friend. If he’s not worried, we should have a stern talk of what friendship means to him.”

Squeezing softly in his son’s hand, Draco shared another look with Potter before continuing. “That bouquet of flowers is James’s.”  
“Cyclamen and camomile? What do those mean again?”  
“Cyclamen stand for fearful hope, camomile strength when things don’t go well.”  
Scorpius smiled again before nodding at Draco to go on.

“Aquila had been reading up on the Patronus Charm, so you know what that means. Her grades are better than ever, but she doesn’t get enough sleep. She’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re back with the living. Matias sends his regards. Cassie is grumpy and clingy, but she manages. No surprise there. Ophiuchus has had difficulties with his magic, he lost control a couple of times. His hair turned every colour of the rainbow. It would have been amusing if not troubling.”

“And you?”

Draco heard the underlying question and saw it in Scorpius’s smirk. Apparently, Potter noticed too, because he chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m well enough. Not much news.”  
“No new clothes?” Scorpius pouted.  
“I’m afraid not. I am planning on going shopping very soon, though.”  
“Of course.” Scorpius grinned again, winking at Potter who suddenly narrowed his eyes at Draco’s clothing and frowned. “And you, Harry?”  
“I have been reading a lot, so I’ve kept busy. Making sure that Malfoy didn’t bawl his eyes out. You know, the usual.”

Laughing, and, in Draco’s case, scowling, they spent the rest of the afternoon with Scorpius, until Draco and Potter needed to get back to Hogwarts. When Potter had left the room, waiting for Draco in the hallway, Draco turned back to Scorpius with a soft, knowing smile.

“Jackie told me to say hi to you.”  
“She talked to you?”  
Draco hummed. “Care to explain?”  
“We’ve been talking. Work through everything that separates our families. It’s good.”  
Again, Draco hummed, now with a proud expression. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Should I contact somehow for you, or bring you something?”

Scorpius shook his head, ending their conversation. During dinner, Draco told the ones that needed to know Scorpius was awake, and suddenly, chatter in the Great Hall was much brighter and louder. A weight seemed to have been taken off, and it didn’t matter whether Draco was the only one who felt like that. Scorpius had woken up, that was all that mattered.

 _Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 2:_ _Quotes_  
_Five of papa’s favourite quotes (just so you will be able to impress him)_  
_1\. Dress shabbily and they will remember the dress. Dress impeccably and they will remember the woman._  
_2\. Two things define you: your patience when you have nothing and your attitude when you have everything._  
_3\. Knowledge is power._  
_4\. Surviving is not staying alive. Surviving is making sure other people stay alive._  
_5\. Win a no-win situation by rewriting the rules._

_That’s it for this paragraph. Just make sure you have quotes like this at hand. He’ll love you for it._

* * *

 

After dinner, Draco disappeared to his apartment to read up on some essays, before he went over to Potter’s. They shared some tea, then some Firewhiskey and then some wine. All in all, it was immensely homey.

“What did you like most about marriage?” Potter asked, while they were both reading a book, leaning against one another.  
Draco snorted. “What a random question.”  
“Don’t laugh at me. Answer it.”  
“Domesticity.”

Potter started laughing, throwing his head back. Draco glared at him, until he stopped.

“Wait, you’re serious? Merlin, sorry. Okay, sorry, tell me why. Why domesticity?”  
Draco thought about it for a second, before putting down his glass of wine and leaning back. “It’s just… I love having a family. My children are everything to me. So I like family dinners, where everyone recounts what they’ve done that day, and then drinking tea with all of us and lazing about. Tucking the children in together and then snuggling together on the couch before going to bed ourselves. Warmth, endless cuddles without having to ask. I like that.”

Potter yawned a bit and let his head loll on Draco’s shoulder. “That sounds really good. You know, I’d be good at those things. I’m good at cuddling. And drinking tea. Pick me, pick me!”  
“I still need proof that you are good at cuddling. Care to show me?” Draco grinned. Potter didn’t hesitate before wriggling under Draco’s arm and closing his eyes. “So, domesticity. That’s cute.”  
“Sod off. What was your favourite part then?”  
“Being a parent. Which is not necessarily a part of marriage, but I’ll count it as such anyway. I love it, even when my children are being brats and they are too noisy.”

Humming softly, Draco shuffled them around until he was more comfortable and took another sip of his wine.

“Is something wrong?” Potter mumbled sleepily. When Draco just shrugged, Potter sat up and placed his hand on Draco’s cheek. “Hey? Talk to me?”  
“It’s just the stress of last couple of weeks. He’s fine now, isn’t he?”  
Potter smiled, nodding. “Yes, he is. All your worrying wasn’t necessary.”

Draco grinned and turned his head slightly to nose at Potter’s wrist. His cologne was still strong, and still the same as the one of the hoodie. When he lost himself a bit –and he blamed it on the Firewhiskey and the wine- Potter started laughing softly.

“You weren’t kidding about that, were you?” he chuckled. Draco’s head snapped up, glaring at Potter and pulling back. Potter scrambled to grab his wrist and keep him from standing up. There were a few seconds of staring at one another.

“I don’t mind,” Potter then confided. “Honestly, I think it’s cute. You have no idea. Just… yeah.”  
“Don’t bother. I’ll stop. It is fine, I understand. Would you like some more wine?”  
“Malfoy, don’t be that way, please.”  
“I’m not ‘being’ any way. I told you, it is fine. Just don’t mention it again.”

When Draco moved to the kitchenette to refill his glass, Potter followed him and pulled him into a hug. “I really, _really_ don’t mind. Please don’t stop.”  
“Potter,” Draco sneered, trying to push Potter away from him, but giving up when it seemed he wouldn’t win anyway.  
“Malfoy,” Potter returned. He placed his hand against Draco’s cheek again, suppressing his grin when Draco unconsciously turned his nose into his wrist. “Come on. I’ll give you some more hoodies, so you don’t have to wear the same one every time. Please.”  
Draco grumbled something, now closing his eyes conceding. “You better never mention this again, Potter, or you’ll regret it.”  
“I promise.”

Straightening his back and lifting his head, Draco was surprised at the close presence of Potter. He shouldn’t be surprised really, they had just hugged, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t the proximity that surprised Draco. It probably wasn’t. Chances were that he had merely been surprised by the look in Potter’s eyes.

They really had it bad for each other, didn’t they?

As Draco mused to himself, he didn’t notice how Potter’s gaze kept flicking to his lips and nervously snapping back at Draco’s eyes, until Potter very lightly touched his hand and pulled him out of his own head.

Draco smiled faintly. Of course they had it bad for each other. And there was nothing wrong with that. He leant closer, revelling in the shock that registered on Potter’s face. Their breaths mingled, noses brushing each other and lips barely apart, when a loud banging on the door interrupted the moment.

“Papa? Papa, I know you’re here. Can you please open up? I really have to talk to you!” Aquila’s voice sounded.  
Draco sighed a soft sigh. “I blame the children,” he mumbled. When Potter huffed out a laugh, Draco pulled away enough to look him in the eye. “I definitely blame the children.”  
“Children. Got to love them, even when they’re being brats,” Potter echoed his early sentiment.

 _“Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 3:_ _Animals_  
_1\. Papa will not allow any pet except for owls in his house._  
_2\. He loves every animal, whether big, small, hairy, bald, soft, rough, feline, canine, feisty or cuddly. He just doesn’t want anyone to know._  
_3\. ‘Animals are filthy, dependent creatures that should not be kept in a neat yet far too chaotic home like ours,’ actually means ‘I have always wanted a pet but I was never allowed to because my parents thought an animal was a filthy, dependent creature that should not be kept in a neat house like the Malfoy Manor.’_

 _First things first: papa is incredibly in love with everything that is animal. He will see a crup, and his entire being melts. He will see a kneazle and be flummoxed at their intelligence. He will see a bloody pigeon, and he will wonder how it would be to own a pet. In short, there aren’t many who love animals more than he does._  
_But. He does not like the idea of a filthy home. He does not like the idea of having to train a pet into obedience. He does not like the idea of a pet dying. He values his neatness – as far as the Lodge can be called neat- and he values independence. Furthermore, he is absolutely terrified of peacocks and associates pets with peacocks around the house._  
_Also, you should know that papa will definitely squat down to pet and cuddle an animal, even if it is a rat or a snake. He just doesn’t want anyone to see him on the ground like that. So don’t expect to see him do that._

Top 5 favourite animals  
1\. Felines (his favourite animal is a lion. Think of that what you will. His second favourite is a black panther).  
_2\. Canines (especially wolves)._  
_3\. Deer_  
_4\. Snakes_  
_5\. Cuddly cuddle bunnies_

* * *

 

The next day, Draco stood in front of the gargoyle to McGonagall’s office, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew that, whatever was the outcome, it would be bad.

McGonagall was just preparing a cup of tea when Draco walked in and immediately offered him a cup.

“No, thank you. I had a question for you, if you have the time. You see, I was wondering. Your Animagus is a cat, yes? Does one choose their Animagus form, or is it the animalising of already present characteristics?”  
McGonagall frowned at him. “I can definitely say that some catlike characteristics were already manifested in me, even before I know that Animagi existed. I know for certain that one cannot choose their Animagus. You are an animal, you don’t become one. Why?”  
“Is it possible to become an Animagus accidentally?” Draco continued, ignoring the deepening frown of the Headmistress.  
“No. That is impossible.”  
“How so?”  
“The transformation requires four things. One, impeccable control over one’s magic and the direction of it. Two, the intake of a mandrake’s leaf for an entire month, from full moon to full moon, without removing it. Three, the correct brewing of a potion during full moon, with the mandrake’s leaf that has been in one’s mouth. And four, daily repeating the correct spell with full focus. I daresay it is highly unlikely to complete this cycle unconsciously.”

During this talk, Draco had paled considerably. McGonagall frowned deeper again. “Why don’t you take a seat, Professor Malfoy? Is there something you ought to tell me?”  
“No, no, of course not. But hypothetically…”  
“Yes?”  
“What if someone has had control over their magic ever since they were about five or six years old. Complete control. No accidental magic, whatsoever. Would that be enough for the Animagus transformation?”  
“Yes, I think it is.”

Draco nodded grimly. “And what if this person had the habit of keeping things in their mouth for an incredibly long time, without swallowing or spitting it out during dinner and sleep. What if, coincidentally, this person popped it in their mouths during a full moon, and only spit it out during the next full moon. Could that fulfil the second requirement?”  
“Yes, it does, but mandrake’s leafs are rather rare, and it is very uncommon to keep such a thing in one’s mouth for a month. Let alone coincidentally during a full moon.”  
“Let’s say it is possible,” Draco steamed on. “Let’s say that this person, in addition to the former two requirements, they also brewed the Animagus potion with the mandrake’s leaf in their mouth, not completely understanding what they were doing. Would that be enough?”  
“Professor Malfoy, you are forgetting that this is a highly complicated potion, not accidentally brewed. Only skilled witches and wizards can do such a thing. Besides, why would anyone brew an Animagus potion without intending to become an Animagus, and why would that person use the mandrake’s leaf in their mouth? Coincidentally during a full moon, nonetheless!”

McGonagall pushed a plate of biscuits in Draco’s direction, clearly irritated by his question. Draco just hummed.

“And what if, Headmistress McGonagall, what if all these things have happened, and the person in question had a habit of saying the required spell every time they changed their appearance, because they thought it was funny? Is there a possibility, even if it’s the tiniest chance, that an Animagus transformation has been triggered?”  
“Change their appearance? Professor Malfoy, I demand you tell me what we are talking about!”

Draco poured himself a cup of tea and knibbled on a biscuit before answering McGonagall’s question.  
“It’s Ophiuchus.”

The cup of tea McGonagall was holding clinked on its saucer with the violence with which she put it down. “What?”

“About one and a half year ago, I felt that his magic had changed. I thought it might be that he was getting more mature, because he also started acting differently. The change in his magic wasn’t significant enough for me to worry about it. However, a few months back, he had gotten angry, and he seemed to have fangs. He snarled, like an animal. Around Christmas, there was a burst of accidental magic, which hadn’t happened since he was six years old. He told me that it was because ‘it’ happened again; ‘it’ being getting fangs and feeling vicious. And, as I said, he was in the habit of putting things in his mouth and keeping them there for ages. One day, I was brewing an Animagus potion for an experiment with ingredients, and he was watching me work. I asked him to bring me a mandrake’s leaf. I think he just used the one he had been chewing on for a month. And of course, I was brewing during full moon. Everything was done exactly as it’s supposed to be done. I just didn’t know the mandrake’s leaf was Phi’s.”

McGonagall crunched on a biscuit. “If I understand correctly, Ophiuchus also had the habit of calling out the Animagus spell before he changed his appearance? How often was that?”  
“Mostly once a day. He would wake up with his black-hair, and run around and play. An hour before dinner, he changed back to blond, calling out that spell.”  
“How did he even know the spell?”  
“Aquila was interested in it. She researched the spell and how it worked for a while, and would tell us what she had found. Phi picked it up rather quickly.”  
“There is one thing I’m not sure of,” McGonagall said hesitantly. “Has he ever completely transformed?”

At Draco’s denial, McGonagall became fidgety with concern. She poured the both of them another cup of tea and offered Draco a second biscuit.

“Perhaps we should start calling each other by our given names,” she proposed. “Since we are colleagues, and equals.”  
“If you wish, Minerva.”  
“I do. Now, do you know the dangers of suppressing the final transformation after completing the ritual?”

Minerva launched into a detailed explanation of everything that could go wrong with the Animagus process, and the final transformation. She ended with saying that if the transformation was delayed too long, it could harm one’s magical core and one could end up as a Squib.

“All in all, we need to make a plan of action to get Ophiuchus to transform. Where do we start?”

They remained in Minerva’s office until dinnertime came around, both leaving with a heavy feeling in their gut and papers full of crossed out ideas and faulty plans.

Even spending the evening with Scorpius in the hospital, and hearing that he would be allowed to go home very soon, didn’t relieve Draco’s churning stomach. He was almost starting to think that he wouldn’t feel better any time soon, when Potter knocked on his door. He was wearing high quality robes that fit him like a glove. Potter saw Draco scrunching up his nose and touching his earlobe with his pointer finger, two signs he knew to mean that Draco liked what he saw and that he was very fond of the subject.

“You look sharp,” Draco commented.  
“Thanks. They’re new. Do they pass your judgment?”  
“They are all right, I suppose. Too bad it’s silk. Silk is a difficult fabric, you shouldn’t wear it any and every day.”  
“Perhaps it’s not any day today.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “It’s not?”  
“No. You see, today is the day that I’m going to start wooing you.”  
“And what if I don’t want you to woo me?”  
“I think you know what to do then. It’s called pureblood tradition, Malfoy.”  
“According to pureblood tradition, the man is supposed to woo the woman. In our case, there are two men. Are you truly trying to apply pureblood traditions to our situation?”

Seeming to hesitate, Potter swallowed and looked around the apartment, smoothing his hands over the olive green fabric.

“And how do you even know about pureblood traditions concerning the wooing of possible marriage candidates?”

Potter knew his answer to this. “I have been reading up on this stuff. I thought you might like to be properly wooed.”  
“However much I’d like to say yes, I really can’t. Not to the proper pureblood wooing.”  
“Oh.”  
“I’ll make you a deal, though. Stop calling it ‘wooing’ and start calling it ‘wining and dining’. If you do that, I will allow you to continue whatever nonsense you have got into your head.”

A cheeky grin took over Potter’s face, lighting it up so much that Draco finally felt the rock in his stomach lift a little.

“I will wine and dine you so well, you won’t even think of rejecting me,” Potter swore happily. “And in the meantime, I will wrap those awful children of yours around my little finger, so that they will henceforth never think of me as anything but there second dad. You wait and see, Malfoy. You wait and see.”

Draco grumbled. “Until you get this wining and dining-thing going, why don’t I pour you some tea and we read a bit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens. Good summary, right?
> 
> Leave me comments! And headcanons! Or join in on the headcanon discussions on chapter 35!
> 
> Also, my [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) is lonely and needs your attention :D


	37. The Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out, because there will be an update on Valentine's Day!
> 
> (Sorry for being late again. Stupid me).
> 
> BUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE OLYMPICS?!?!?!????????? IREEN WUST WON 1500M ICESKATING TODAY. FOUR OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALS FOR HER. THAT'S MY GIRL RIGHT THERE. SHE DID THAT. SHE FRIGGING DID THAT. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT BECAUSE I CAN'T. IREEN WUST DID THAT. FUCKING HELL FANTASTIC. I CAN'T BREATHE. I'M CRYING

_Chapter 6: Important Pureblood Traditions  
Paragraph 1_ _: Wooing, Marriage & Public Displays of Affection_  
_Subparagraph a: Wooing_  
_1\. We know that you are not interested in pureblood traditions, but papa is. You will not be able to convince him of entering in a relationship with you, if you do not know a few of the basic pureblood rules and traditions. Get over your awkwardness and listen to us. We are always right._  
_2\. You may of course interpret the traditions loosely, and bend the rules to your own benefit. The most important thing is indicating that you know something about all of this._  
_3\. Papa is head over heels for you! Just do it already! We are_ **tired** _of seeing you dance around one another. If you do_ **not** _start wooing papa very soon, we will do it for you, and that won’t reflect prettily on you. Understood? Yes? Then_ **go woo him, you utter idiot**!

_Pureblood wooing is done in a couple stages. One cannot officially enter the next stage without fully completing the former one. These stages are called the Three A’s: acquaintanceship, approval and affection. First, there must be an acquaintanceship between the two parties –and preferably their families as well. As you understand, this stage is completed in your case, at least enough to convince the stuck-up purebloods out there. After this acquaintanceship, and when both parties have decided that they are willing to enter a true courtship, approval (and agreement) needs to be found between the two families -or rather, the parents. In other words, you ought to visit our grandparents. Note that papa is not to know that you are visiting his parents. In your case, you are the wooer and papa is the wooed. That means that you will have to gain official approval of our grandparents, while papa is supposed to make nice with his future family, somewhere during the courtship, but not in any case mention a possible marriage.  
The last stage is the stage where affection will start to grow. It is the period in which the two families become one, the pairs of parents talk to each other about matrimonial understandings and the two parties have public appearances together. The general rule is that the last stage takes about four times longer than the first two combined._

_A proposal to wooing is often not a request, but a demand. If, however, the wooed party would like to refuse –only done when the wooed, or their family, is not willing- the wooer will be invited to tea with the parents present, and it will be made clear by not serving any biscuits with the tea._

_Wooing generally leads to marriage. This does not mean you have to marry, though. For example, it would be understandable if the two of you didn’t get married, since you both have families already. Besides, a man-to-man marriage may not be accepted in some circles. What we are trying to say, is that you do not have to feel obligated to marry papa if you do not want to, whatever the reason. That part is entirely up to you. (The moment that you and papa are in an official relationship, we will back off and everything is up to you.)_

* * *

 

Two days after Potter had announced he would start wooing Draco, he was on his way to Wiltshire. His destination: the Malfoy Manor. When his Apparition landed outside the gates, he suppressed a shiver and moved forwards. A house elf popped in front of him right outside the door, asking for his name and business.

“Harry Potter. I am here to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?”  
“Are they expecting you, Mister Harry Potter, sir?” the house elf squeaked.  
“No, they aren’t. It’s about their son, though. It is rather urgent.”  
“Libby will see if Master is home, sir. Please wait here.”

It took only a short moment before the door opened and the same house elf ushered him to one of the drawing rooms. It was a formal space, clearly designed for unexpected visits; no personal belongings, no paintings, but elegant furniture and a lot of natural light flowing in through the large windows. Narcissa was seated in the light, reading, while Lucius was stood next to the fireplace, facing Potter when he entered. It was obvious that they hadn’t been sitting here before Potter had called; they had moved to present the perfect picture for him.

“Mr. Potter. What a pleasure to see you,” Narcissa smiled tightly, rising from her seat. Potter took her offered hand and shook it lightly, before turning to Lucius and exchanging a nod.  
“Thank you for seeing me so unexpectedly. I realise it is very odd for me to come here, especially considering our… history,” Potter stuttered, deliberately not looking at Lucius. Internally, he was screaming.  
“Yes. You said it concerned Draco?” Lucius said when the silence had become heavy.  
“Ah, yes. You see, your son and I have become… friends over the last months.” Potter decided to ignore the barely suppressed knowing smile on Narcissa’s lips while she pushed a plate with small cakes in Potter’s direction. She was scarily like Andromeda.

Breathe, Potter told himself. You and Narcissa had a perfectly polite conversation at New Year’s.

“In fact, you may have seen the article in _The Daily Prophet_ that suggested we were more. At the time of the article, I don’t think there was more between us, but –“  
“Get to the point, Mr. Potter,” Lucius interrupted icily. Narcissa shot him a look, before refocussing on Potter and smiling, less tight and more natural then when Potter had only just entered.

Potter swallowed. “Yes. Well. You see, I have fallen in love with your son. And I would like to ask for your approval to continue wooing him.”

A shocked silence followed, in which Lucius sat down on one of the chairs next to his wife, whereas Potter was still stood.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Mr. Potter,” Narcissa offered, as if reading Potter’s mind. “We can talk about this. I say, it is a bit unexpected. When did you initiate the courtship?”  
“Last Wednesday, ma’am.”

Lucius made a scoffing sound, but was ignored by Narcissa, who kept smiling kindly, but not hiding the sharp glint in her eyes.

“You are moving fast, then.”  
“Yes. I think it has been a long time coming. The last months, we have got to know each other better. I thought we might not need another long period of acquaintanceship.”  
“And you jumped right into the approval.”

Narcissa leant back slightly, leaving the stage to Lucius, who took a deep breath and sneered.

“What makes you think we would approve of this match?”  
“Because I don’t see why I wouldn’t be. Are there any real objections to me?” Potter returned, feeling his old ire against the man rise.  
“You aren’t a pureblood. I’m even surprised you know to ask for approval.”  
“If that is your only concern, I will interpret it as being allowed to woo your son. Because, you know, purebloods are not in any way better than half-bloods or muggleborns.”

Lucius opened his mouth to answer, but Narcissa cut him off.

“My main question is, why now? Why are you suddenly so eager to enter an official relationship with Draco? What happened?”  
“I’m sure now of what I feel for him. I don’t want to wait any longer to tell the world how I feel.”  
“And yet, I feel that is not the only reason. Why, Mr. Potter?”  
Potter looked at his hands, making an effort not to fiddle. “You have heard of Scorpius being admitted to the hospital, I think. And during the weeks he was unconscious, I was so worried, but I felt I couldn’t do anything. I don’t want to feel like that, especially not when it concerns Malfoy and his children. If I am at least allowed to call myself part of this family, it would help immensely. It made me realise how much I want to be one of them.” He turned his gaze to Lucius, with a fiery challenge in his eyes. “And I’m willing to fight for my place. The only reason I am asking approval is because Malfoy appreciates it. But I can lie about it, and you won’t have the heart to deny it. Will you?”

Shushing both Lucius and Potter, Narcissa kept talking. “Your point is clear, Mr. Potter. I would not even dare denying the approval you want, if it is what Draco wants too. And I believe he wants this. I am merely curious. Most people would think you and Draco could never be anything but acquaintances.”  
“And yet, we have both matured. We were children. We were trying to navigate through a war. People do stupid things sometimes. I have forgiven him, and I hope he has forgiven me. Things have changed. I have fallen in love with him. That’s the simple truth of it.”

Potter’s blunt honesty made Narcissa smile. “In that case, I hereby approve of your courtship with my son.” Lucius made an aggressive movement with his hand, but Narcissa rolled her eyes. “And my darling husband has nothing to add. Does he?”

Clenching his jaw and fists, Lucius stood up to guide Potter to the door, not saying anything until Potter was outside, turning around to walk away.

“Take care with what you do,” Lucius suddenly sounded.  
Potter looked over his shoulder to face him. “Yeah?”  
Lucius glowered at him, eyes set dangerously, threateningly. “Yes.”  
With a nod, Potter and Lucius seemed to come to an understanding. A truce of sorts, where the only binding factor is their love for Draco.

It’s enough.

Chapter 1: Parler á la Français  
Paragraph 2: _Ten Romantic Sentences_  
1\. _Je pense toujours à toi_ _= I always think of you_  
2\. La Saint Valentin = Valentine’s Day  
3\. _Ais-tu une idée idée quelle chance, je suis à vous connaître ? =_ _Do you have any idea how lucky I am to know you?_  
4\. _Je suis follement amoureux_ _= I am madly in love_  
5\. _Vous êtes un git terriblement ennuyeux, fier et têtu =_ _You are an awfully annoying, proud and stubborn git._  
6\. _Tu me rends heureux_ _= You make me happy_  
7\. _Je veux être avec toi =_ _I want to be with you_  
8\. _Tu veux sortir avec moi ? =_ _Do you want to go out with me?_  
9\. _Je pense que vous pourriez être ce que je cherche depuis =_ _I think you might be what I have been looking for.  
10\. _ _Je t’aime_ _= I love you_

* * *

 

While Potter was at the Manor, Draco met up with Theresa again for their weekly potion brewing. After four months of experimenting with various ingredients of Neville, their routine of working together was easy and comfortable. Theresa could do the spell that shows all properties of the potion they were brewing, and it seemed that most potions didn’t need enhancing ingredients anymore. Not when the main ingredients are magically adapted, like Neville has done.

During the brewing, James knocked on the door and peeked inside. “Hi Draco. Could I sit in and watch?” he asked, greeting Theresa absently.  
“Of course. Is there a reason, or are you just bored?”  
“No, nothing at all.”

Draco slowly stirred the potion while Theresa added another ingredient. After a couple minutes of working in silence, James sighed.

“Are you sure there is nothing?”  
“Well, you see,” James started. “Next week is Valentine’s Day. We’ve got the Valentine’s Ball here at Hogwarts, and I want to ask Suzanne as my date, but…”  
“You don’t know how to do that?”  
“Exactly.”

Theresa chuckled. “Does she want to go?”  
“How should I know?” James wondered miserably. “Perhaps she just wants to go with friends. I have only been on two dates with her!”  
“Why haven’t you initiated more dates then?” Draco questioned. “I thought you had gone to the Great Lake already, and that you had a study date, and that you were going to go to Hogsmeade together.”  
“She cancelled on Hogsmeade.”  
“Ouch,” Theresa grimaced.  
“Did she tell you why?”  
James sighed again. “Said she had homework to do. Which is… fine, I guess, if there had been another date. But there hasn’t been.”  
“That’s painful. But I think she does like you,” Draco assured him.  
“Who are we talking about, by the way?” Theresa asked curiously.  
“Suzanne Phillis, Gryffindor fifth year,” Draco supplied immediately. Theresa began laughing, clapping her hands happily.  
“What?” James grumbled.  
Theresa wiped some tears away from her eyes. “Suzanne Phillis? She has had an immense crush on you since _first year_! How did you not know this?”

James and Draco shared a look, then turned their gazes on Theresa.

“Seriously?” James exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”  
Theresa shook her head in disbelief. “She has been pining for years. Poor Suzanne, she must think you were just playing with her!”

When James kept seated, wide-eyed and a grin taking over his face, Draco said his name loudly.  
“James. _Go_!”

Flying up, James ran out of the room, crying a goodbye over his shoulder. Theresa looked at Draco and rolled her eyes.

They worked together on the potion until they had to wait for it to finish. When they sat down, Theresa peered at Draco, annoying him to no end.

“What?”  
“Oh nothing.”  
“Zarnel,” Draco warned.  
“I was just wondering whether you and Professor Potter would go to the Valentine’s Ball together.”

Draco turned his face to look at Theresa, then inspected the potion.

“I don’t think so.”  
“Why not?”  
“Why would we?”  
Theresa laughed again, standing up to clean their work table. “It’s obvious, Professor. Don’t even try to pretend you are not together.”  
“We aren’t.”  
“Perhaps not officially. But why wouldn’t you go with him to the Ball? Are you too chicken?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco put some of the ingredients back in his private cupboard. Truthfully, if Potter was serious about the wooing, and if he properly followed the pureblood traditions, as he suggested, then going to a ball together would be totally wrong. They couldn’t make public appearances together while they were in a courtship, until Potter had gained his parents approval.

“Stupid pureblood rules,” Draco mumbled to himself. He said goodbye to Theresa and moved to his apartment, surprised when a note was stuck to his door.

_Vous êtes un git terriblement ennuyeux, fier et têtu_ , it said. _And I don’t like you wearing dark purple robes, like you did in the hospital last week. Don’t be sad, please._

Draco scoffed, but couldn’t help being pleasantly amazed at how easily Potter seemed to read his mood. Had he been wearing purple last week in the hospital? Apparently.

The back of the note seemed to have been scrawled on there in a hurry, as if it was added in the last second.

_Tonight, after dinner. Wear something warm._

Draco frowned, but changed in warmer clothes, before he went down for dinner. Potter didn’t talk to him, because of which Draco received a few questioning glances. Clearly, he and Potter were interacting so much normally, that it was odd for them _not_ to talk.

After dinner, when most of the students had left already, Potter smirked at Draco and quietly asked whether he was dressed warm enough.

“I’ll be all right, Potter. Where are we going?”

Potter just hummed, leading the way outside, going in the direction of Hogsmeade.

“Are we going to Hogsmeade? We can’t go to Hogsmeade, Potter,” Draco objected.  
“Don’t be so impatient, Malfoy. You’ll see.”

Potter offered his arm, Side-Alonging Draco to a dark alleyway. Draco peeked from the corner of the building and frowned.

“Diagon Alley? Potter, I really am sorry, but we cannot be seen together.”

When he was ignored in favour of strolling onto the street, Draco clenched his fists in frustration and followed quickly.

“Potter, if you were serious about the pureblood courtship –“  
“I am.”  
“Then we can’t be out in public together. Not until you’ve got my parents’s approval.”  
“I know.”  
“Then stop walking for a second!” Draco grabbed Potter’s wrist, releasing it only a second later as if it were burning coals. It did satisfy his goal however, getting Potter to stop walking.

“Pureblood etiquette demands that we are not to be seen together before you have gained my parents’s approval. And truly, I don’t mind one way or another. I thought I had been clear on that. I don’t need a true courtship. But if we are to do this, I want to do it right. It’s all or nothing.”

Potter finally turned to face him, with a desperate look on his face. “I _know_ , Malfoy. Trust me, I do. But I’m in a dilemma. I have no idea what to do. Pureblood courtship rules dictate that we are not seen together until I have gained approval. But I am also not supposed to tell you whether or not I have spoken to your parents. What am I supposed to do then, Malfoy? Tell me.”

It took a second before Draco realised what Potter had hinted on.

“You visited my parents?”  
“I’m not supposed to say, remember?”  
“And they _approved_?”

Draco started walking again, shaking his head in disbelief and taking a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“Is that a good disbelief?” Potter asked softly, staying a step behind Draco.  
Draco scoffed, shaking his head again. “Yes, Potter, it’s really good.”  
“Good. So you’re not angry?”  
“I definitely am not angry. How do you even know about pureblood courtship rules?”  
“I told you, I’ve been reading up on it.”  
Narrowing his eyes at Potter, Draco racked his brain to find the reason why Potter would know all this. “How much have my children told you?” he ended up saying.  
Potter laughed. “They haven’t told me anything.”  
“Oh, right, it was a book. What did they put in that book?”  
“Don’t be angry about it.”  
“Potter, if I would be angry about my children writing a book on me, you would have noticed by now.”

Potter hesitated again, before chuckling sheepishly. “It’s mostly basic things. Your likes and dislikes. You know, favourite brands and flavours and such. White hazelnut from Ritter Sport, for example.”  
Draco smiled as well.  
“And Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream from Ben & Jerry’s. Who knew you would prefer Muggle brands over Wizarding ones!”  
“Ben & Jerry’s is a Wizarding brand. It’s impossible to make the flavours of ice cream they have with Muggle techniques.”

Laughing, Potter shrugged, conceding to Draco’s point. “Your dislikes were also mentioned. The don’ts of Draco Malfoy.”  
“Oh? And what were they?”  
“Don’t insult his family. Don’t insult Slytherin House, or Pansy and Blaise. Don’t insult his abilities.” Potter grinned. “And don’t walk into his office when the door is closed.”  
“I don’t mind that last thing! I didn’t get angry when you walked inside to pick me up to go to the hospital, although I remember quite clearly that the door was closed.”  
Potter hummed. “The full rule was: don’t come in if the door is closed, unless he loves you.”

They locked eyes for a moment, until Potter faced forward again. Draco bit his lip to suppress a smile. “They have thought about everything, haven’t they,” he stated softly, deliberately not denying the underlying question Potter asked. The result was an enormous grin.

“Wait, where are we?” Draco exclaimed confusedly when he didn’t recognise his surroundings.  
Potter hummed again. “Some place I really wanted to bring you. Alone.”  
“Where are we, Potter? I don’t like surprises.”  
“You’ll like this one. I promise.”

When they turned a corner, Potter nudged Draco and pointed a few ten metres away. Draco’s mouth fell open, seeing the London Eye in all its wonderful, brightly lit glory.

“Muggle London,” Draco whispered. Potter pulled him further at his hand, passing by the queue and greeting the security guard.  
“I wanted to take you on a ride. If you don’t mind?”

Draco could only shake his head, immediately followed by a nod. The guard smiled at them, opening a cabin for them, where a bottle of champagne and two glasses were readied for them.

“I may have ordered the romantic ride, but I figured you wouldn’t mind. I just threw around some money, but you must be used to that.”

Grinning, Draco sat down and took the flute Potter offered, while enjoying the view that only got better as the ride advanced. He pressed his face to the window, not really caring about propriety right now, since Potter already had seen his weakest moments.

“This is wonderful, Potter. Who knew Muggle London was so beautiful?”  
“Most people do. Wizards are just oblivious.”

After about half an hour, they stepped out of the cabin, Potter immediately directing them towards the Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament. They strolled around a bit, before Potter looked at his watch and hurried them to the next place.

“Where are we going?”  
“Just follow me. Quickly, come on!”

Hurrying along the streets, they ended up in one of the brightest lit areas in London, where many people milled about, mostly going into or out of the buildings.

“Theatres?” Draco questioned.  
Potter smiled. “Close your eyes and your ears. I don’t want you to know where we are going before it starts.”  
Grumbling, Draco did his best not to listen to the people around them, until he was seated. Their places were in the Circle, looking down on the stage, right under where the sounds came from. It was a good spot.

The moment the lights went off, and the first notes were played, Draco turned a wide-eyed gaze to Potter.  
“Is this _Aladdin_?”

When Potter only shushed him, grinning widely, Draco enveloped him in a tight hug. He pulled away after a few seconds, but didn’t let go of Potter’s hand.

The musical was perfect. It was magical, in the Muggle sense of the word. Draco watched without once taking his eyes away. The break was entirely unwelcome, because it meant they were already halfway.

The second part even pried some tears from Draco, even though he pretended it didn’t. He mouthed along with the songs, smiling whenever he saw Potter watching him. The ending was even better in this musical than in the Disney film, resulting in a teary-eyed smile from Potter and a contented sigh from Draco.

After the musical, Potter led him to the Thames, where a small boat was waiting for them. There was a bottle of red wine and a cheese plate on the small table. Potter easily got the boat moving, after which they drifted along the London shores, enjoying the lights of the city and its monuments.

“Did you know that Queen Elisabeth I was a witch?” Draco suddenly asked.  
Potter sipped slowly from his wine, not wanting to get tipsy while he was steering the boat. “Really? How do you know?”  
“A direct ancestor of mine was one of her suitors.”  
“Why was he rejected?”  
“If I may believe the Malfoy registers, which are possibly biased, it was because Elisabeth didn’t want her children to be magical. She was muggleborn, and she had found how unwanted she was as a witch. That is why she never married at all, never got any children. But as I said, that may be the story the Malfoys made up to cover up their rejection.”  
Potter laughed. “It’s a good story, though. Isn’t your family French in origin? I believe Phi said something like that once.”  
“Yes, we are. Armand Malfoy came to England as part of William the Conqueror’s army. He built the Manor in the land he had gotten when William the Conqueror was King. All his descendants tried to marry well, gain more land, more Manors, until we lost it in a war and they had to start again. It was an endless cycle, in the time where land and titles meant so much to English nobility.”  
“And how much land do you have now?”  
“Nowadays, it has been divided up between multiple sons, so our property isn’t as vast as it used to be. We still have the Manor, of course, and the Lodge. We have a London townhouse we barely use. There is some land in Scotland, mostly for repose, and along the South Coast, for repose and herbs. The properties in the Midlands are where we get our agricultural resources from. We also have a large estate in France and a vineyard in Italy.”

Potter’s eyebrows rose, clearly surprised at the land they owned. “So how many acres do you own, approximately?”  
“In the UK, about 50,000. The vineyard is some 150 acres, but not all of it is useful still. Some of that is old and in disuse. The estate in France is small, just a holiday home, let’s say 5 acres.”  
“Merlin,” Potter whispered. “And you have to regulate all that?”  
“Well, we have employees, of course, to control the everyday happenings. And it helps that those estates have been ours for centuries. We barely have to pay any taxes. And since the properties in the Midlands are agricultural lands, worked by farmers who lease it from us, then sell a third of the goods to us, we make quite a lot of money on it, while not having to do anything but some paperwork.”  
“It sounds unfair.”  
“It isn’t. We pay well for the goods, and the lease isn’t extremely high. I would even go as far as to say that we are one of the most beneficial families to lease from.”  
“And you said the lands along the South Coast was where the herbs come from? What do you use the herbs for?”  
“Ingredients for the Apothecary. There are only a few ingredients that we don’t grow ourselves.”  
“How do you have time for all that paperwork?”  
“Easily enough. Before I took this job at Hogwarts, I hired overseers that would handle the bulk of the paperwork. Only things that needed my explicit approval were sent through to me. Every week, I get an overview of what has happened, in excruciating detail. It’s much more organised this way than it was before.”

Potter hummed, taking the last bit of cheese and pouring another glass for Draco. They were on their way back to the dock, the night having fallen a long time ago.

“And you have four children. How are you going to divide it between them?”  
Draco chuckled. “That’s easy. Scorpius has always been interested in managing the estates. He used to sit by me and want to sign the papers I was working on. I usually copied those papers, so he could play pretend. Besides, he is my oldest son, so the official estates should go to him. Luckily enough, the others don’t want that responsibility. Aquila will want the care of magical creatures that we own. Cassie will take over control in France and the vineyard, and Phi wants the Apothecary. Everything has been settled already.”  
“That’s pretty cool. It’s sweet that they all have their own interests.”  
“Yes, well, I keep saying. They are immensely different.”

They reached the shore and stepped out of the boat, not bothering to find an alleyway from which to Apparate, since there was no one around anyway. Hogsmeade was dark and silent, the only sounds coming from the Three Broomsticks. The school itself was quiet as well, since it was past curfew and everyone was in their dorms or common rooms.

“Well,” Potter said, standing still in the place where he and Draco would separate ways.  
“Yes,” Draco answered.  
“Good night then.”  
“Same to you.”  
“And I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
“Unless I am murdered in my sleep, you will.”  
“That’s good. Scorpius is allowed home tomorrow, isn’t he?”  
“Yes, but he will have to stay in the hospital wing this weekend. After that, he can pick up some classes again.”  
“Great.”

Draco huffed out a laugh at their awkwardness, shaking his head. “I enjoyed it, Potter.”  
“Me too. In fact, I was wondering…”  
“Yes?”  
“Would you like to be my date to the Valentine’s Ball?”  
Taken aback, Draco stood gaping for a moment before he could answer. “Only because there is no one else to take me,” he smirked then.  
Potter threw his head back laughing, but sobered quickly. “Keep telling yourself that. Sleep well.”  
“Night.”

Draco felt Potter’s eyes on his back until he turned a corner, where he finally allowed himself to start panicking.

Now he not only had to fix dresses for his daughters, but also find something presentable for himself to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dizzy.
> 
> And don't forget: extra chapter on Valentine's Day!


	38. Valentine's Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm late again. It's February 15th here. But let's pretend that it's still Valentine's Day, yeah?  
> Ugh I need to get more discipline.
> 
> Also, it's a short chapter. And not very good. Actually, it's a bad chapter. But I promised you a chapter on Valentine's, so here it it. Don't kill me.
> 
> The good side is that I am training again (finally!) and my strength doesn't disappoint me. So that's a plus.
> 
> Also, I have been indulging in my guiltiest pleasure all day (some other fandom stuff) while I was supposed to be studying. Woe me.

_Chapter 3: Characteristics  
Paragraph 3:_ _Things he does_  
_1\. Ophiuchus has once told you papa’s mannerisms, little indications of how he feels. You will need to know these things very well, so if you have forgotten them, reread paragraph 2: Mannerisms._  
 _2\. Papa does not know how to handle himself, so he uses etiquette to help himself out. If he is acting overly formal, it is because he is nervous and unsure and helpless._  
 _3\. Acting on impulse is something he is learning to do only now. It may result in odd reactions, extreme clinginess or angry fights._

_Papa hides. He is extremely good at hiding. Cassie has inherited this talent of his. If you find him, it’s because he wants to be found. He knows exactly to use light and shadow to his own benefit. Even if you think you know where he is, you won’t actually see him there. He learned how to hide because his Disillusionment Charm is awful._  
_He also loves to travel and learn about new cultures. New cultures remind him of how small and insignificant his own habits are. It relativizes his arrogance – which are his own words!_  
 _He pretends to be all right, but he barely sleeps. Phi says it’s because of the nightmares. Cassie says it’s because he is afraid of getting nightmares. Aquila says it’s both. Scorpius thinks it’s because he worries too much. Whatever it is, he doesn’t sleep well unless he is close to someone else._  
 _And, papa doesn’t often say how much he loves someone, he doesn’t particularly like vocal admissions of friendship or love, but he does give small, useless and utterly charming presents. As if to say: ‘Hey, I saw this, I liked it and I thought of you. So here you go, this is for you. Now get out of my office, you idiot.’ It’s fantastic._  
 _He will also pretend to be penurious, never really advancing money or treating someone. But the next day, he will ask you to go to a café with him, and secretly pay for half of your drinks, without you noticing._  
 _Lastly, papa won’t often initiate hugs or touches (if he does, he would die for you), but he will hold you for as long as you need it. He will never let go first, no matter how uncomfortable he is._

* * *

 

“Papa! You said you would make sure our dresses were here before the Ball, right? You explicitly told Harky _not_ to pack them, because you said we would have them early enough!” Cassie whined. Classes had just finished, and the Valentine’s Ball would start in about two hours.

Draco sighed. “Trust me when I say that the dresses will be here on time. Harky is just picking them up. He will give them to one of the elves here at Hogwarts. Patience, love.”  
“But I will have to do my hair, and make-up and I don’t know which shoes to wear.”  
Aquila, sitting on Draco’s bed, laughed. “Cassie, we are _witches_. Hair and make-up is very easily done.”  
“You are supposed to be on my side, ‘Quila!”

At that moment, an elf appeared, dropping five clothing covers on the bed, bowing and leaving again.

“Aquila, I believe this one is yours,” Draco announced, handing one over.  
Aquila eagerly ripped the zipper open, after which her mouth fell open. “This isn’t the dress I chose…”

Cassie too looked surprised, but then got a wicked grin while pouncing on the clothing cover with the second dress. “You bought us new dresses?”  
“Papa, this is perfect!”

Scorpius and Phi, formerly sitting in the living room, walked in, curiosity peaked at their sisters’s cries. With a smirk, Draco handed them their clothing covers.

“You bought _all of us_ new clothes?”  
“Seems like it,” Phi piped up as he eyed the shiny black fabric with pride.

Aquila had changed in her dress in the bathroom, reappearing in baby blue dress reaching to the ground. The colour set off her eyes.  
Scorpius raised his eyebrows when his sister appeared. “You and Matias will _not_ be alone together tonight, do you understand?” he warned half-playfully.  
“And I suppose you will stay with us?”  
“If need be. Could you turn around for a moment?”

Laughing, Aquila twirled slowly. When Scorpius saw that the back was mostly covered, he nodded satisfied. “Well chosen, papa. Almost as good as Phi’s dress robes.”

Phi had also pulled on his dress robes, immediately appearing much more mature. His robes matched well with his now black hair. He looked handsome – even if Draco might be biased.  
“There are green accents in this!” Phi exclaimed happily, when he noticed the green stitches and faint Malfoy crest on his breast pocket.

Cassie now walked out of the bathroom, and sank down in front of Draco. “Do my hair,” she demanded grumpily.  
“Don’t you like your dress?” he asked, seeing as there was no smile to be seen.  
“It’s fine. I want you to do my hair.”

After Draco and Scorpius had had brief eye contact, Scorpius smoothly ushered Phi and Aquila out of the room, going to make tea and remain in the living room for the moment.

“Is something wrong, Cassie?” Draco questioned, sitting next to her. Cassie turned away from him, pointing aggressively at her hair.

“Cassiopeia Malfoy. Talk to me.”

With a sigh, Cassie stood up and gestured at her dress. “I would think it’s pretty obvious what is wrong.”  
“Is it the dress? Did you want something else? I’m sorry if that is the case, Cass. I can have Harky get a dress from the Lodge, if you want,” Draco assured her, fiddling with the edge of the bed covers.  
Cassie sighed again. “No, I love the dress.”  
“Then what is it?”  
“I can’t wear it.”  
“Why not?”  
“Have you seen it? I can’t come in, looking like this, while Scorp and Phi and ‘Quila look so perfect. And you as well, probably.”

At Draco’s confused expression, Cassie sank to her knees in front of him, again offering her hair for him to do. Draco slowly started winding his fingers through it, wondering what he should do with it.

“I look like shit, papa. Aquila is so beautiful, and then I come along, with my stocky limbs that have no curves except for muscles. I should have been a guy, with the body I have. I was hoping it would look better if my hair was done.”

Draco smiled faintly. If that was all, he could help his daughter.

“Cassie, you know that that isn’t true. You look wonderful in that dress.”  
“But not as good as you do. The four of you will be this perfect model family, and then I run in looking like a warthog.”  
“A warthog?” Draco burst out laughing. “Love, you can’t say you are a warthog when just now, you were adamant about not having curves.” He was glad to see her cracking a smile.  
“Yes, well, it’s one of the two. You choose.”

As Draco’s fingers deftly worked through Cassie’s hair, barely thinking about what he was doing, but sure that the result would be beautiful, he thought what he should say to his daughter next.

“Cassie, love… I’m not going to pretend that I know how it is to be a woman, because I don’t. But I do know how it feels to be insecure. I never feel like I am good enough, you know that. And I have never thought of myself as handsome.”  
“Bullsh –“  
“Language. But I have seen the four of you. And you are so incredibly wonderful. You are right, Aquila is very beautiful. And Scorpius is attractive. And I’m sure that Ophiuchus will grow out to be a true heartthrob. But that doesn’t mean that you are lacking with attractiveness. Merlin, Cassie! Do you ever think why I prefer to do your hair, instead of ‘Quila’s? Even though you never sit still and you put it in a ponytail after five minutes?”

Cassie grinned, moving to sit more easily and messing up the strand Draco was trying to tuck in.

“And did you know, Cass, that Aquila would never wear anything orange or purple? While you look fantastic in those colours. The Weasleys are jealous of how well you wear orange.”  
“Is that why you bought me an orange dress?”  
“This is ginger, not orange,” Draco said primly. He tugged at the strand he was holding, as Cassie shook with laughter, causing her to whelp and sit still. “And I know for a fact that Aquila is jealous of your stomach. So. Keep that in mind.”

Folding himself in some difficult positions, he managed to grab a silver hair pin with amber gems from his nightstand and push it in Cassie’s hair without ruining it.

“Done!”

Standing up from the ground, Cassie cast a mirroring charm to see what Draco had done with her hair. He had twisted it into an intricate rose, with curly strands peeking out from the bottom, making it more casual than it would have been without the loose strands. Together with the wide flowing dress, she looked positively ethereal, yet still herself.

“You barely need any make-up. Come on, go put on your shoes. I’ll go change quickly and be out in a second.”  
“Hurry up, Aquila wants her hair up as well.”  
“Hush you!”

Draco quickly changed into his new dress robes and rushed out to work on Aquila’s hair, while letting the other three decide what to do with his own.

“What do you want, Aquila?”  
“Something simple.”  
“Simple? I don’t do simple.”  
Aquila laughed. “I mean, my dress is already flashy. I don’t want my hair to pull attention away from my hair.”  
“And Matias likes it simple,” Phi cut in with a grin. Aquila blushed heavily.  
“Then we’ll do it simple,” Draco chuckled. “How about an Andalusian?”

While Aquila nodded and Draco started working on her hair, Scorpius tried to understand what the ‘Andalusian’ exactly entailed.

“Aquila has had it before, on some events where we went with Mother,” Cassie explained. “It’s when her hair is done up, but it hangs down in curls. It’s like the curly manes of an Andalusian horse.”  
“What?” Phi mumbled stupidly.  
 “All right, so there is a sort of bun, but all her hair has fallen out. Only stylish. And curled.”

Scorpius frowned. “But her hair isn’t curly.”  
“Magic,” Cassie singsonged, starting to grab the materials Draco would need to do his own hair. “Papa, have you showered already?”  
“Of course I have.”  
“So all of your hair care rituals are done?”  
“I only need my oil.”

After Aquila was finished –and looked remarkably like Jasmine from Disney’s _Aladdin_ \- Draco found a whole lot of pins and ties that he would only need if he were doing a difficult hairstyle.

“What have you chosen for me?” he asked Cassie. She showed him a magazine of women’s hair models, a picture with the most intricate style he had ever seen.  
“I don’t know whether I can do that,” Draco frowned.  
“It does look Slytherin-like,” Phi commented.  
 “Definitely. At least try?” Scorpius asked.

Draco cast a quick Tempus Charm and sighed. An hour. This should be fine. He massaged the oil into his hair to make it nice and supple, and asked Cassie to get the spray that made it shine, which he used on days that he had been fiddling too much with his hair and it didn’t shine anymore.

The hairdo Cassie had chosen had a network loose braids over his crown, which came together in a tie made of hair, and then spread out in a ribcage-like pattern. He would have to be very careful with his hair, if he managed to do it.

In the end, it worked out well enough, but they were five minutes late already. Draco only hoped that Potter was even later.

_Chapter 6: A Few Important Pureblood Rules  
Paragraph 2:_ _Conversational Topics & Dances to Know_  
_1\. We said it before, pureblood etiquette is still important to papa. Hence, it’s crucial to know what to talk about on a formal event._  
 _2\. At many events, there will be dancing. Even though you don’t have to dance, many pureblood families will be much more accepting to your relationship if you are seen dancing together._  
 _3\. Unless you fail._

_We know that you have been to your fair share of Ministry events et cetera, but none of those had the risk of not being accepted as a possible ‘plus one’ for papa. So, conversational topics with pureblood families are simple, polite things like weather and the hosting family. On some events and with some families, one can discuss politics –either national or international. However, beware of the families that still believe in pureblood superiority. Only talk to those if you can keep calm: you don’t want to make a scene. Furthermore, family and personal matters are not to be discussed, unless you are very well acquainted with your conversational partners. But let’s keep it at ‘forbidden’, shall we?  
There are also dances you should know. It is traditional that a couple in the process of courtship dance together. Obviously not every couple that dances together is courting, but every couple that is courting, dances together. It allows outsiders to judge their compatibility and the suitability of one or the other. It is not compulsory, but in the unwritten rules, it is. The dances you should know are the Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot, Quickstep, Paso Doble and the Samba. Some of these are extremely difficult, so you won’t have to know them right away. Just make sure that at the next formal event, you can do the Viennese Waltz and the Quickstep. Papa will help you with the rest._

* * *

 

Potter was indeed later than Draco. While Aquila was picked up by Matias, and the other three went in together, Draco waited in the Great Hall for Potter to come down. A few students greeted him, and a few girls stayed to talk to him.

“Are you waiting for a date, Professor?” a Hufflepuff girl asked.  
“A pretty lady perhaps?” another giggled.  
Draco chuckled. “Well, I would say yes, but they’re not exactly a lady.”

At that moment, Potter came barging down the stairs, obviously having tried to tame his hair and failed.

“Malfoy, sorry I’m late.”  
“No worries. Have you decided to represent your House tonight?”

Draco observed the robes Potter was wearing; the Bordeaux robes Draco had lent him the first night Potter had stayed over after a nightmare. The only change was that the silver buttons were now golden.

“I actually decided to thank you for giving me these by wearing them again, but if they represent Gryffindor, I’m not complaining.”  
“Are you going together?” one of the girls that had been with Draco asked disbelievingly.  
Potter raised a subtle eyebrow before smiling at the girl. “In the spirit of House Unity, right?”

With that, Potter offered his arm to Draco and led him into the Great Hall. It was decorated with a lot of pale pink and red, very cliché and slightly tasteless. However, the students seemed content, so it wasn’t Draco’s place to complain.

Potter went to get them some punch and Madam Pomfrey joined Draco.

“Hello, Malfoy. What wonderful robes you are wearing,” she greeted.  
“Thank you, Madam. How is the hospital wing faring?”  
“Oh, very well. I was wondering, could you brew some more healing potions? I’m all out of Sleeping Draught and Skelegro.”  
“Of course. Speaking of which, I have been experimenting. I now have potions that are stronger, better and work faster. They are also less addictive. If you’d want, I could give you those.”  
Pomfrey frowned. “Have you tested them already?”  
“No, but there is a spell that shows what the effects are, how it works and how strong it is. It’s a variation on a diagnostic spell the Healers at St. Mungo’s use.”  
“Hmm. Give me your new Sleeping Draught and I’ll see what I think of it.”

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but Potter returned with the punch. Madam Pomfrey smiled knowingly. “I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy yourselves tonight.”

When she left, Potter and Draco shared a look. “I think she suspects,” Potter commented dryly.  
“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.”  
“Don’t be cocky. Anyway, something really odd happened today.”  
“I’ll do whatever I want. What happened?”  
Potter grinned side-ways at Draco. “Right about two hours ago, James and Albus suddenly found impressive new dress robes on their beds.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes. And Lily was given one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen.”  
“What a weird thing,” Draco remarked with a blank face.  
Potter chuckled. “Absolutely. And the weirdest thing is… Lily’s dress is neither the same colour, nor does it clash with Cassie’s and Aquila’s. While the robes of your sons match perfectly with those of James and Albus, only differing in accessories.”  
“Extreme coincidence, I’m sure.”  
Laughing again, Potter shook his head and put down their now empty punch bowls. “Thanks, though. They loved it.”  
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

They smiled at one another, looking over the Great Hall and watching their children mingling and dancing.

“Would you like to dance?” Potter asked, offering his hand.  
Draco eyed it warily. “If you know so much about pureblood courtship, I suppose my children have told you what dancing means?”  
“Afraid so. Do you want to?”

Shrugging, Draco took Potter’s hand, getting in the position to lead. “When did you learn how to dance?”  
“I took some lessons before my wedding. And Aquila may have taught me some moves.”  
“Of course she has. Those idiots,” Draco sighed happily. From the corner of his eye, he saw Scorpius bowing formally for Aquila and asking her to dance. They joined Draco and Potter on the dancefloor, which was empty apart from those two couples. Cassie then pulled Phi on the floor, dancing a bit more clumsily, but still elegant enough.

Lily was standing with Albus, but Albus’s attention was rather caught by Manila, making Lily look somewhat lonely. Draco and Scorpius shared a look, after which Scorpius led Aquila towards Albus and Lily.

“Albie, you should go ask Manila,” Scorpius smiled.  
Aquila nodded. “Papa wants to dance with you, Lily. He will come to ask you in a second.”

While Scorpius and Aquila twirled back onto the middle of the dancefloor, Draco and Potter came closer. With a swoop that left Potter on the side lines, Lily was whisked away, carefully being taught how to do the simple waltzing movements. Albus took a few breaths, being encouraged by Potter standing next to him, and went up to Manila.

“Would you perhaps like to have a dance with me?” he mumbled.  
“Sorry?”  
“If you’d like to dance,” Albus repeated. Manila smiled softly, taking his hand and leading him onto the floor. Their dancing was uncomfortable and awkward. Draco grinned at Potter, happy with his match-making. When Albus caught their gaze, he rolled his eyes at Draco and stuck his tongue out to Potter. Manila just laughed.

As the evening went on, Potter and Draco stayed together, enjoying the food and drinks and students that came up to them to talk. Neville eventually joined them, after which Cassie decided to cling to Draco’s side and James got into a discussion with Neville about Herbology.

Draco caught Minerva looking at them and smiled. She, however, frowned in the direction the door, where Ophiuchus had disappeared. Quickly excusing himself, Draco went in search of his youngest.

_Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 6:_ _(Hiding) Places & Travelling_  
_1\. Papa loves to hide, and he has very good hiding places. He never uses the same place twice, unless he wants to be found._  
 _2\. He is good at hiding, but he is also very good at finding others. Because he can empathise with others, he knows where to start looking for them._  
 _3\. Travelling is a form of hiding for papa, because people don’t know how and he can pretend to be someone else entirely._

_When papa hides, it is because he needs his peace and silence, time for himself. Sometimes to sleep, usually to wallow in self-pity. He uses shadow and light to his advantage and makes sure that he will not be found. It is completely unknown how he finds those hiding spots, because most of them are impossible to find if one doesn’t know about their existence. He does always leave hints where he is, or makes sure that you can find him._  
_Travelling is the same feeling for him, only he loses himself in the culture and does not wallow in self-pity. He loves it, though, and has been to many different countries. He’s lucky that he’s rich._  
 _Okay, bad joke. Sorry. It was Cassie’s fault. Anyway, papa can hide himself well, but can find other even better. There is no way on earth that someone can hide from papa and won’t be found one way or another. It’s useful and good that he can find anyone, but it’s also terrifying. Never a quiet moment with that man!_

* * *

 

Draco almost ran down the stairs to a niche close to the Hufflepuff common room. If Phi was hiding because he was insecure, he would most likely be in badger territory. Neither Phi nor Draco was surprised that Draco found Phi before the latter had even properly settled.

Phi looked wild. His eyes were burning, somehow, and he had a ripped sleeve.

“Phi? Can you talk to me? What happened?”

His son didn’t answer, only averted his eyes and clenched his fists. A light snarl rumbled in his chest, making Draco understand what was going on. He took a few measured steps backward and breathed deeply to prepare himself.

“Were you too excited? Not controlling yourself?”  
Phi made a soft whining noise that Draco interpreted as a yes.

“All right, that can happen. I want you to relax. I think I know what is going on with you, why you are feeling the way you feel. But I need you to calm down. Don’t be afraid, love. Could you focus on what you are feeling?”  
“Papa…”  
“Don’t resist it, Ficus. Get it all out, let it go. Do you remember how you felt at Christmas with the Potters, when you were so excited?”

Another whine.

“Keep breathing, love. Don’t fight against it, it’s safe. Everything is all right. Try to feel the same way you felt when those men started insulting me, on the twin’s birthday.”

Phi was clenching his fists so tightly, his nails drew blood. Draco saw that his nails were sharper than usual, and his bared teeth showed long, sharp canines. Definitely not human.

“Ophiuchus, don’t fight. Relax. Let your body do what it needs. Focus on that battle, when Potter conjured the snake. How did you feel then?”

A burst of magic pushed Draco back a few centimetres, while a sharp growl sounded and Phi started transforming. He was still fighting it, still trying to get it undone, but it was useless.

The first sounds after the transformation hit the black panther’s ears with a violence that made him gnarl, snapping his paws against the air. He tried to move away from whatever he was hearing, but the movement of his nails against the stone floor made him flinch the other way.

“Ophiuchus,” Draco whispered, to not scare the panther with another loud sound. His head jerked towards Draco, quick breathing slowing down when he saw his father. Draco had his eyes to the ground, head lowered, trying to be as unthreatening as possible.

“Hello, love. There is no need to be afraid. Do you recognise me? It’s just me, no one else. No one to worry about.”

The panther, after he had calmed somewhat, leaped at Draco and pushed his head under Draco’s hand, asking to be petted.

Draco let out a relieved sigh. “Thank Merlin. It’s just what I thought, Phi. You’re an Animagus. Surprise!”  
Phi purred softly, sitting down instead of standing, and let Draco take a good look at him. It was obviously still a young panther, bigger than a cub but very clearly not yet adult.

“See, there is nothing to be afraid of. Now that you have had your transformation, you will be able to control it much easier. It’s just like your Metamorphmagus abilities.” Draco chuckled. “You couldn’t just have one shifting ability, could you? You just have to have it all. Can you change back for me?”

Phi turned his head to the side, finding it a great difficulty to communicate without words, but Draco understood.

“I’m not entirely sure how it works. I think you should try to focus on how you look like as a human being, and how it feels to walk to two legs and such. Don’t worry if it doesn’t happen immedia-“

Another burst of magic, much more controlled now, swirled around Draco and suddenly Phi was standing in front of him again, hugging Draco fiercely. Draco held on just as tight.

“So I am an Animagus?”  
“It seems like you are.”  
“How?”

Telling his son the entire story, which resulted in a roll of Phi’s eyes and an ‘I thought I was in control of my magic’, they stayed in their niche until they heard the music slowing upstairs.

“It’s time for you to go to bed, love,” Draco announced. They stood up to say goodnight to their family in the Great Hall, and –in Draco’s case- reassure Minerva that everything was all right, before they trudged down to the dungeons and fell asleep minutes after hitting the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) invites you!
> 
> And please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It doesn't even have to be full sentences, just GIBBY GABBY GOO I SAY BOO is welcome as well :D


	39. A New Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what.... I'm late again! Forgive me?
> 
> But the chapter is longer, to make up for being late and being absolutely rubbish. Yay :D
> 
> WARNING: mention of suicide! Not graphic, though

__“Chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions  
Paragraph 3: _War & Nightmares_  
_1\. Do not ever mention the war without papa’s explicit permission. Some people always have this permission (Pansy and Blaise), others do not (our grandparents, especially Grandfather)._  
_2\. Do not ever mention papa’s nightmares or his fear of the dark in front of people he doesn’t trust. He does not want to show his weaknesses to those._  
_3\. He does not want to talk about the war or his nightmares, but they are important for the man he has become. Try to pry things from Pansy or Blaise, or try to bribe papa with chocolate. We don’t know anything about it, so we can’t help you. Sorry!_

_Papa is still very sensitive about the war. No surprise, since he is still being cast out from society because of it. He is insulted, hated and abused because of the things he did as a child. That is why he is always trying to do better, always working on the image of our family. It is also why he would never fight back against the people that hate him; he feels they are correct and have the right to treat him like they do. The war is also in the very front of his mind. He still has nightmares, fears and worries about what happened. In some circles, it seems like the war has never happened, because everyone is mostly over it by now. Nothing hurtful is meant here, but the Weasley family often seems like they have left the war behind them (seen in how easily they accepted papa). However, papa has not and cannot forget it, or put it in the past. It haunts him every hour of every day, and he is unable to forgive himself.  
The nightmares he has mostly originate from the war. There is one thing we know for sure, and that is that papa has seen more than any teenager should have. He lived in the snake’s den, quite literally, and was forced to participate in the most gruesome scenes. His worst nightmares, and his worst fears, aren’t about what actually happened though: they are about what could have happened, had you not won. They are about the four of us being subjected to Tom Riddle, and about ‘all those good people’, like he calls the Weasleys and Andromeda, dying._

__Drawbacks and benefits  
_\- Papa is extremely closed off about this, even though they are things people should know_  
_\- Because we don’t know anything, we cannot help him, and he has to get through it on his own_  
_\+ We know how to avoid the worst of times (by feeding him chocolate), and how to make sure he can keep on living_  
_\+ When he is thinking about the war, it helps him to make certain decisions that he wouldn’t have been able to make otherwise._

* * *

 

The day after the Valentine’s Ball, Pansy and Blaise unexpectedly popped in to visit Draco, catching up on what happened. Draco told them about Phi’s transformation, which had them silent from shock, and Cassie’s breakdown. When Pansy told him that it wasn’t unusual for girls to become insecure during puberty, Blaise scrunched his nose and switched to wine, declaring that he needed alcohol if he was supposed to listen to puberty girls’s problems.

Around eight o’clock, Ophiuchus walked in, greeting Pansy and Blaise and moving to the bedroom. Potter followed him into the living room.

“Potter. What are you doing here?” Draco asked, standing up quickly and brushing off his robes.  
“I was going to say goodnight, actually,” Potter smiled hesitantly.  
“Goodnight? Are you going to bed already?” Pansy asked.  
“Er no, but this was more convenient, with Phi being here as well.”

Draco chuckled, just as awkward as Potter seemed to be. Blaise eyed them warily, until he straightened and smirked. “And why would you need someone else present, Harry? It almost seems like you were using Phi as a chaperone of sorts.”  
“Well,” Potter started, bravely trying to suppress a blush. He grinned at Draco. “Perhaps because I was hoping Phi would chaperone us for just a minute.”  
“That sounds like a courtship ritual, doesn’t it?” Pansy interjected, catching on to their conversation.  
“What a coincidence,” Draco then drawled. “Phi, I’ll be with you in a moment. Potter, if you would like to join us, you are more than welcome.”  
“Oh yes, Harry, we would be glad to chaperone you and Draco.” Pansy laughed. “Are you truly courting him then?”

Draco moved to the kitchen to grab another mug for Potter and a glass of wine for Pansy, hearing Potter confirm their courtship.

“Well done, Draco. You don’t even have to do anything. How does it feel to be courted?” Blaise grinned.  
Draco shrugged. “I must say, Potter does fail spectacularly at this whole thing. I’m not sure whether I would like to be in any kind of relationship with such an inconsiderate man.”  
“Oh nonsense. You are just a high-maintenance, overly dramatic git.”  
“A lovers spat. Rather early in your relationship to be fighting, isn’t it?” Pansy jeered playfully.  
“They’ve been fighting ever since they met, Pans. You can’t expect them to be any different now.”  
“I am _not_ high-maintenance!” Draco cut in, a bit late with his response but still indignant.  
“Yes, you are. You are the princess of Princess and the Pea,” Potter grinned.  
Draco frowned heavily, handing him the tea and frowning some more. “Even though I appreciate your reference to Muggle fairy tales, I do not condone being called a princess.”  
“We have established that you are the princess of us two. During Christmas, remember?”  
“I thought you were the princess. Princess Potter does sound good, doesn’t it?”

Pansy and Blaise were exchanging amused looks, muttering something about old married couples and embarrassing love stories.

“Princess Potter? You can’t match a last name with ‘princess’, Malfoy. Besides, ‘Potter’ is hardly a royal name.”  
“The entire Wizarding World seems to think it fits perfectly, _princess_.”  
“You are the one being courted right now, following traditional pureblood rules.”  
“How is our courtship traditional?”

Potter was lost for an answer, so he just smiled. Pansy thought it was a good moment to cut in.

“All right. If the two of you are in a courtship, don’t you think Harry should know something about you, Draco?”  
“What?”  
“We mentioned it before, Harry, but then you decided that you didn’t want to know. However, I think you should know. Especially if you are serious about Draco.”  
“Pansy, please,” Draco pleaded, knowing what his friend was talking about.  
Blaise looked at the ground, but nudged Pansy to continue when she hesitated.

“I’m sorry, Draco dear. You know I’m right.”  
“Pansy, I really don’t need to know. Not if Malfoy doesn’t want me to know,” Potter protested. “I don’t think anything is important enough –“

Draco stood up, taking the four mugs and two wine glasses, to clean the tea mugs Pansy and Blaise weren’t using anymore and to refill the other glasses.

“I’ll be in the kitchen to fix us some more drinks. It will take a while, because I’ll do the dishes as well,” he announced, giving Pansy a significant look. She nodded at him and leaned forward, refocussing on Potter.

“So there was this girl. Her name was Rissa May,” she started.

“During the war, seventh year, she was only a second year. She was really young, a bit naïve and gullible. Silent as well, never one to draw attention. During that time all Slytherins slept in the common room, she did too. She was in the corner furthest away from the fire, because she loved to use her knitted blanket. One night, she had a nightmare. Draco rushed over to her, calmed her, made sure she would wake up. When she did, she let out a relieved sigh and buried her face in Draco’s shirt to mask her crying. It took a while before she was able to speak again and Draco could ask her what the nightmare had been about.”

Blaise fiddled with the pillows on the sofa. “I can still recall her exact words. She said: ‘I am so happy that you are here. I had this awful dream that my parents were killed. They aren’t, are they? I dreamt that they were killed by your father, but that’s nonsense. Your father has nothing to hate them for, they are pureblood, and sympathisers. But I dream that they _were_ killed by him, and that I was all alone now. But there is nothing to fear, is there? I should send them an owl to tell them how much I miss them.’”

Clenching her jaw, Pansy forced herself to keep looking at Potter. “And then Draco was saddled with the task to tell the sweetest, most innocent girl that her parents had indeed been killed, two days prior, by Lucius, without a reason other than Riddle’s orders. Draco had to tell Rissa that her nightmare was complete truth. That she couldn’t send her parents an owl, because they were dead. And that they had died at the hand of his father. And that she had no one else, was all alone now.”

“A few days later,” Blaise swallowed. “Well, Draco had the habit of strolling along the Great Lake at a certain moment of the day, to clear his mind and try to wake up. It was common knowledge among Slytherins at what time he would pass the Great Lake. So a couple days later, Draco walks along the shore, and suddenly a body washes upon the shore, attacked by Merpeople. Rissa May, of course. She had probably dived into the Great Lake with the intention of drowning. In a final act of Slytherinness, she spent her last days researching the tides of the Great Lake, so her body would wash up while Draco was walking there. She left a note in Draco’s dorm, only saying, ‘It was intentional.’”

“We kept it hush hush, told people who asked that the Carrows had done something to her. It was a common enough occurrence, so no one really payed it any mind. Especially because she was so silent and remained unseen by most of the student body. But it left Draco haunted, terrified.”

“Understandable,” Potter managed to say after a few seconds of silence. “How does he cope?”  
“He doesn’t. He can’t forgive himself. Not for Rissa’s death, nor for anything else that happened in the war. That is why he doesn’t sleep.”  
“I’ve heard a lot about that, about not sleeping. Why is that?”  
Blaise chuckled grimly. “Nightmares. Fear of the dark. Fear of silence. Fear of nightmares. Worrying. Fear of what could happen if he let go of control. Fear of what his children may have to live with. Fear of being abandoned. Probably thinking of how to polish the Malfoy name, so his children will have a better life. Working on how to help people he harmed through the war. You name it.”  
“But if he doesn’t sleep, how does he stay awake?”  
“He lives on Invigoration Draughts and sugar. It works, for the most part,” Pansy answered.  
Potter frowned. “Aren’t those highly addictive?”  
“Yes, but he knows exactly how much he can take without getting addicted. He has a schedule with when he take a potion. There two days each week that he can’t take one, and on those days he trudges through the day on willpower alone, and he is subjected to nightmares.”

“Pansy,” Draco’s voice sounded weakly. He was stood in the door opening, heavily leaning against the door post. His hands were shaking, only just preventing the wine to spill over. Potter rose quickly, taking the glasses and handing them to Pansy and Blaise, after which he went to the kitchen to get the tea for him and Draco.

“So, if I can continue asking, you never really sleep?”  
“Only if he has someone in bed with him. A warm body means that everyone is alive. Aquila once told us that that’s why they usually climb in bed with him at home,” Blaise said when Draco didn’t answer.  
“So with Astoria, you slept well?”  
Draco snorted. “ _If_ she was home, we slept very far apart from one another. Physical contact was sparse, especially in our latest years.”  
“Ophiuchus could join you. You are in the same room already.”  
“He gets warm easily, while I stay cold always. He throws away the covers and wants open windows, whereas I just want to be enveloped in warmth. It doesn’t work.”  
“Cassie? That should work. Her nightmares are less when she is with you, and you get to sleep.”  
“Cassie needs to learn to deal with her nightmares on her own. One day I won’t be here, Potter, and that day may come sooner than we all think.”

Pansy, Blaise and Potter frowned at one another, but Potter shrugged and continued his questions.

“How about Aquila? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”  
“No, she wouldn’t, but she doesn’t like to leave her dorm if it isn’t necessary. Besides, she has cold feet. Her feet are awful. I don’t want to ice cubes anywhere near me.”  
“Have you ever heard of socks? They are quite wonderful in situations like these,” Blaise chuckled.  
“Doesn’t work. The cold just seeps through. I woke up with blue toes once.”  
“Scorpius then,” Potter proposed.  
“Feels too mature for that. Feels awkward. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him like that.”

Potter laughed. “All right. Pansy?”  
“Oh, trust me, I tried. Unfortunately, I wasn’t his type,” Pansy interjected.  
“Yes, you were very disappointed,” Blaise smiled. “I remember. You cried for six whole days when he broke up with you.”  
“I did not!”  
“You did, though,” Draco remarked. “You sent me letters every day, to ‘remind me of our love’. The last note said ‘Fuck you, I will find someone who treats me better than you do’. That was the moment I realised what a beautiful human being you actually were.”  
Pansy grinned. “I know, I’m such a treasure. Now, don’t you have some snacks somewhere?”

 __Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 7: _Family & Friends_  
_Subparagraph c: Friends_  
_1\. Papa doesn’t have many friends. He has acquaintances, and business partners, but barely any friends. He feels uncomfortable calling people friends, because he doesn’t know whether they are trustworthy enough for that title._  
_2\. He clings to his friends –Pansy, Blaise, Greg, perhaps Theodore Nott- like a life line. He is loyal to the point where it’s not good for himself anymore; supporting them in the face of the public, even though they have done something illegal, protecting them to the cost of his own sanity, and listening to their problems when he has his own worries._  
_3\. He won’t die for them, though. He doesn’t do that. He would suffer, but not sacrifice himself._

_Papa only calls people his friends, if they have earned his trust. He respects a lot of people, but he trusts only a few. There is a thing he does, where he pushes people away when they are getting too close to him. He will start insulting them, and try to make them back off. It’s a defense mechanism; if he pushes them away deliberately, they can’t disappoint him, because he never had any expectations of them. However, if you manage to push through, and ignore his stupidity, and fight back when he is being a pain in the *bleep*, you will eventually become one of his trusted ones. Knowing you, you will probably have gained his trust already, because the two of you have been fighting forever. He trusts you. We think._

__Drawbacks and Benefits  
_\- He is either cold, or he clings to you like he would die if he let go. It can cause a whiplash._  
_\- There is a chance that he throws away something that could have become a good friendship, just because his defense mechanism kicks in._  
_\+ If you have made it to his circle of friends, he won’t let you go. This is not an exaggeration. He will fight and smash and break everything to make sure you are all right. It’s a given._  
_\+ He is very clear about who you are to him. There is no mistaking about it; it’s all or nothing._

* * *

 

Theresa walked into the classroom, where Draco was already preparing the cauldrons. They had decided to do the experimental brewing on Sunday today, because last Friday had been the Valentine’s Ball.

“Hi, Professor. How are you?”  
“I’m all right, thank you. Did you enjoy the Ball?”  
“Oh yes, I did. Speaking of which, here I was thinking you and Professor Potter weren’t going together, and suddenly I see you dancing. What happened there?” Theresa smirked, cutting the alihotsy leaves and asphodel roots.  
Draco raised an eyebrow, setting the Pomegranate juice on low heat in the cauldron and working on the daisy roots. “We were both without a date, and it seemed like a good idea to project House Unity.”  
“Even going as far as dancing together. Impressive. You must have been very invested in your task.”  
“Clearly. You know Professor Potter, he is stubborn enough to want to achieve the impossible.”  
“Right, and you are… in love enough to want to do anything Professor Potter asks you to?”

Laughing and setting up another cauldron for the asphodel roots and alihotsy leaves, Draco shook his head. “Somehow, I get the idea that you think I’m in a relationship with him.”  
“Oh well. I guess it must have something to do with the Slytherin House Secret.”  
“What?” Draco asked, snapping his head up in surprise.  
“Don’t you think it’s very odd that the SHS fits the description of you and Professor Potter perfectly? You can’t tell me that you hadn’t noticed. It must be about you.”

Draco relaxed minutely, not enough to be noticeable, but certainly enough to continue brewing. “I’m sorry, Theresa, but I don’t think the SHS is about me. Didn’t it say something about students?”  
“No, it didn’t. And which other Slytherin is in love with a Gryffindor, and were together at the Valentine’s Ball?”  
“There were more than just me and Potter, I know for a fact. Besides, since when has there been an SHS note about going to the Ball together?”  
“Friday morning, it said something about the Slytherin having been forced to ask the Gryffindor by their friends.”  
Draco grinned. “Then we know that it isn’t about me. Professor Potter asked me, not the other way around.”

A disappointed expression slid over Theresa’s face, until the door opened and she looked up curiously.

“James,” Draco greeted. “Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade today?”  
“I went yesterday, with Suzanne. I wanted to spend today on my homework, but I’m finished already. What are you doing?”  
“Brewing Invigoration Draught for the hospital wing. How is Suzanne?”  
James grinned. “She’s good. We have a study date planned tomorrow. Did you know that she wants to become a Curse Breaker? She’s smart enough for it.”

Draco and Theresa shared a smile, leaving James to ramble about Suzanne.

An origami bird flew into the room then, landing on Draco’s shoulder. When he folded it open, he rolled his eyes.

 _Je pense toujours à toi._ _Do you have time to go to the Weasleys shop today? I want to buy this new gadget they have.  
\- H._

“So he’s sending you love notes, now?” Theresa asked teasingly. “And you are sure that you aren’t in a relationship?”  
James looked at Draco questioningly. “Perhaps the two of you should talk about what you are,” he offered. “Dad certainly seems to think there is something.”  
Draco grabbed a quill and scribbled his answer on the paper, sending it back to Potter. “I don’t think any of this is your business.”  
“It’s my Dad. I think it most certainly concerns me.”  
“I was talking to Theresa. You know more than I would like you to know.”  
While James laughed, Theresa turned to James, interestedly. “Oh yes? What do you know? Professor Malfoy refuses to tell. Catch me up.”  
“Keep your eyes open and you’ll know everything that is going on,” James advised.

Draco pushed Theresa to the side so he could finish the potion and start cleaning the utensils they didn’t need anymore.

“But Professor Potter is of the opinion that they are in a relationship?” Theresa continued.  
“Well, he thinks they are something.”  
Theresa hummed. “Professor Malfoy? Anything to add?”  
“Why are you acting like a mother working out a fight between two children? I can guarantee, I am handling this on my own.”  
“Apparently you are not, because you are leading Professor Potter on. That’s not kind.”  
Seeing Draco become agitated and annoyed, James cut in. “Theresa, I know that they are in agreement over whatever it is. Draco is treating him like Dad wants him to. I mean… Everything is okay.”

Theresa hummed again, sounding disbelieving. Draco just clenched his jaw and cleaned everything, without responding to Theresa’s questions whether she could help. After a while, Theresa huffed and stalked out of the room. James kept seated where he was, observing Draco and smiling whenever their eyes locked.

“Dad doesn’t feel like you are leading him on. You know that, right?” James suddenly asked.  
Draco gave him a curt nod.  
“Oh please, Draco, get your act together. I don’t blame you for anything. It’s just Theresa that thinks you are doing anything wrong. And she doesn’t even know everything of it.”  
“I don’t care what she thinks,” Draco said shortly. “If I did, she wouldn’t be my apprentice.”  
“Then why are you in a strop?”  
“Do you think I’m leading him on?”  
James laughed, eyes wide. “I just told you. Of course I don’t. Quills told me that it had something to do with pureblood rules or something. Besides, as long as Dad is happy, I don’t have any right to judge.”  
“And Lily feels the same?”  
“Obviously. She adores you. Says you are the only one that understands her.”

Draco grinned. Lily was a sweet girl. It was no wonder Cassie and she could get along so well. They were similar in many ways, in how they treated others, and how they always seemed to know exactly what was going on, even if no one had told them.

“Why aren’t you worried about what Albus thinks of you?” James inquired, cocking his head to the side.  
“He is indoctrinated by Scorpius. He is incapable of thinking badly of me. I don’t have to worry about him. Besides, I have knowledge about him that he doesn’t want to become public. He wouldn’t dare to utter something negative.”  
James chuckled. “I will never understand Slytherin friendships.”  
“Oh, they’re easy. It’s all based on leverage. As long as there is mutual leverage, there will be a friendship.”  
“Slytherin friendships can’t exist without leverage?”  
“I don’t think so,” Draco mused. “Leverage can be that one time someone tripped over their own feet, so it doesn’t have to be something important. Slytherins are proud. The smallest thing can affect their pride, so mutual leverage of silly stories is enough to base a friendship on.”  
“Then what is the leverage Albie has of you?”  
“I’m sure there is something. Scorpius must have told him the most awful things.”  
“And Dad?”  
“It’s not a friendship between Potter and me,” Draco reminded James, not looking him in the eye.  
Grinning, James came to stand next to him while Draco prepared a new cauldron for some simple potions. “Is there no leverage then?”  
“There is. A whole lot of leverage. It just doesn’t work as well, because he is a Gryffindor and thinks everyone is his friend, if he just does the right thing.”  
“That’s exactly how it works, isn’t it?”  
“For Gryffindors, perhaps. Slytherins are an entirely different species.”  
“But Dad could have been in Slytherin as well.”  
“And he chose not to. For him, doing the right thing surpasses doing the most beneficial thing.”  
“Slytherin friendships only exist because they are beneficial?”  
“In the beginning, probably. After that, they can turn into true friendships.”  
“Are we friends?”

Draco looked at James, who was easily cutting some ingredients, keeping them separated from the cauldron and the knife Draco used for other ingredients.

“Of course we are. Why do you think we wouldn’t be?”  
James shrugged. “You don’t seem like someone that easily calls people their friends. It’s all right if you think we’re not friends. We could get there eventually.”  
“Jamie, we definitely are friends.”  
“What’s our leverage then?”  
“Potter, mostly. And Suzanne. And you helped me when Astoria visited me, those months back. There is enough leverage between us.”  
“Scorpius sent me. It wasn’t my own doing, to get you away from Miss Greengrass.”  
Draco smiled. “I know. I am about ninety-nine percent sure that Scorp sent you for this exact reason.”  
“To make sure I had leverage against you, and we could be friends?” James asked sceptically.

When Draco nodded, James frowned. “But that doesn’t count, then. Because he set it up.”  
“Of course it does. You could still have decided not to help me.”  
“I don’t want to be friends because Scorpius set it up.”  
“James. Listen to me. If I hadn’t wanted to be your friend, I would have paid back the favour and went on with my life. However, I quite like your Dad, and your brother, and your sister, and your entire family. There is no reason why I wouldn’t want to be your friend.”  
“Okay. But –“  
“No buts.”  
“Let me. If you would need more time until we are proper friends, that’s all right, too, you know. It doesn’t need to happen immediately.”

James chucked the ingredients into the cauldron and went on with the next ingredient while Draco stirred.

“To me, you are a friend already,” Draco announced quietly. “And not just because of leverage or anything. I trust you.”  
“Why?”

Draco smiled. “Because Aquila trusts you. And Ophiuchus. And Cassiopeia approves of you –which happens even less than I exclaim people as my friends. And Scorpius likes you. And Albus looks up to you. And Lily loves you. What they think is incredibly important to me.”  
“Dad wants to be a Dad to your children as well,” James remarked.  
“Before you ask anything,” Draco interjected. “Yes. I would love to be one family with you. There is a reason I bought the three of you clothes for the Ball as well.”

James nodded approvingly, as if that was the only thing he had needed to hear.

And perhaps it was.

 _Chapter 1:_ _Parler à la Français_ __  
Paragraph 3: Simple things for Restaurants  
_1\. Vous appréciez votre repas ? = Are you enjoying your meal?_  
_2\. Ce que vous prenez comme dessert ? = What are you taking for dessert?_  
_3\. Ne vous inquiétez pas le paiement = Don’t worry about the payment._  
_4\. Bon appétit = Enjoy your meal_  
_5\. Vous voulez une morsure ? = Do you want a bite?_  
_6\. C’est délicieux ! = This is delicious!_  
_7\. Je t’aime-je veux dire, cet aliment = I love you – I mean, this food (Cassie: I dare you to say this!)_  
_8\. Quel est le meilleur vin avec ce plat ? = What is the best wine with this meal?_  
_9\. J’espère que vous avez apprécié cette date = I hope you enjoyed this date_  
_10\. Vous me détesterais si je vous ai demandé dehors pour le dîner ? = Would you hate me if I asked you out for dinner?_

* * *

 

Around tea time, Potter came up to collect Draco for their trip to Hogsmeade.

“What exactly do you need from the Weasleys?”  
“They have this new gadget, a miniature Quidditch pitch with players and a Snitch, and it moves. You can even play with it like you’d play Wizarding Chess.”  
“Will George and Ron be there?”  
“I think George will, yes. Ron usually stays at Diagon. Why, are you desperate to see your lovely crush again?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco nodded. “Obviously. The only reason I bear your presence is that it gets me closer to George. How have you not noticed yet?”  
“Oh, I’m sorry. I can leave the two of you alone if you would prefer that.”  
“Please.”

They reached the Weasleys’s shop, which was busy with students that were enjoying their Hogsmeade weekend. They spent a few minutes talking to those students before finding George and being swept away to the back, where tea was bubbling.

“Draco, how do you take your tea? I’ve got a thousand different flavours, and sugar and milk. Take your pick,” George announced, puttering about to make sure his desk was empty of papers.  
Draco eyed the box that indeed held many different flavours, most of which he didn’t know. While he was trying to make a decision, Potter joined him and easily picked one flavour, digging through the multitude of tea bags to reach the lowest one.

“Many of these are charmed,” he whispered, sneakily resting a hand on the small of Draco’s back. “You should never take a flavour that’s placed between two blue bags. Those are charmed to grow elephant’s ears, which will only disappear after twenty-four hours. Also, the upper two of every flavour are charmed to grow a pig’s tail. Apart from that, there is a pattern which bags are charmed and which aren’t. Some have the same effect as Pepper Breath, others taste like you swallowed a pound of goose feathers.”

Draco’s eyes grew. “Which can I take then?” he whispered back. Potter handed him a bag from the exact middle, flavoured apple cinnamon, and smiled.

“That’s not fair, Harry! You shouldn’t tell people about my jokes. You’re no fun,” George called from the finally empty desk.  
“Your jokes are no fun, George. You should treat guests with kindness.”  
“Draco is no longer a guest. He’s part of the family.”

Draco and Potter sat down at the desk, enjoying their –luckily uncharmed- tea.

“If I’m part of the family, then I should no longer be a victim of your jokes, should I? Potter knows all your tricks.”  
“That’s because he had always been able to keep me and Fred apart. He is special, aren’t you,” George crooned, ruffling Potter’s hair.  
“Malfoy could do that too! He had a crush on you, remember, not on Fred.”

Draco hit him hard on the arm, while George to let out a delighted laugh. “That’s right, I almost forgot. How is that crush? Still under influence of my undeniable charms?”  
“I am. Potter and I were just talking about how I was only using him to get to you. Are you sure about your sexuality?”  
“Quite sure. Besides, I don’t think Harry would appreciate it if I stole you away from him, right now.”  
“He can take it. But since you’ve just rejected me, can I have a free pass on all pranks you do?”  
George rolled his eyes. “I suppose. Free pass from me. I can’t speak for Ron, though!”  
“Ron is too afraid of me to try anything with Malfoy,” Potter spoke up. He lead Draco to the shop again to grab the gadget he had come for, thanking George for the tea and giving him a quick hug.

Draco turned to go back to Hogwarts, but Potter grinned and steered him to the other side. They reached a small restaurant, where Potter stood still and cleared his throat.

“Vous me détesterais si je vous ai demandé dehors pour le dîner ?” he asked.  
Raising an eyebrow at Potter’s outstretched hand, Draco cast a glance at the bistro. “It’s hardly dinner, if it’s only five o’clock.”  
“I don’t know a word that would be more appropriate. Humour me.”  
“Fine. No, I don’t think I would hate you. Would you hate me if I said yes?”  
Potter smiled widely, tugging Draco into the restaurant and leading them to a booth in a corner, where privacy was maximum.

They first enjoyed more tea, until dinner time rolled around and they ordered some easy, tasteful meals.

“I didn’t even know this restaurant existed,” Draco remarked.  
“It hasn’t been here for long. And it’s barely visible, and in a boring part of Hogsmeade. Not many people come here.”  
“I noticed. It is cosy.”  
“Good enough for a date?”  
Draco chuckled. “Were you thinking of asking someone on a date, then?”  
“I was actually hoping this was a date.”  
“Is that what all the French was about?”  
“Of course. A little birdie told me that French was the language to properly seduce you.”  
Throwing his head back in laughter, Draco had to agree to that statement. “Was that little birdie coincidentally an eagle kind of birdie?”  
Potter frowned incomprehensively.  
“As in, a Ravenclaw Aquila kind of birdie?”  
A conspiring smile later, Draco stood up to pay, but Potter beat him to it.

Just like last time they were in Hogsmeade together, it resulted in an article in _The Daily Prophet_.

 **Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy dating?!  
** _\- by Anonymously Observant, our regular anonymous journalist_

_Last weekend, Hogwarts Professors Harry Potter (Defense Against the Dark Arts) and Draco Malfoy (Potions) were seen together in Hogsmeade. They have been seen together before, and that time I wrote an article wondering whether they were in a relationship. However, after that article came out, there was a major fight between them, and Mr. Malfoy hurt Mr. Potter’s arm in a duel. My Hogwarts sources told me that they didn’t think a relationship was there yet. This happened in early November. Now, about four months later, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are again in Hogsmeade, this time without children and family members. They were having dinner at a new restaurant-bistro in Hogsmeade, talking like they knew each other very well. I, seated on a table next to theirs, overheard Mr. Potter telling Mr. Malfoy that he had hoped this dinner was a date._

_Our Hogwarts sources also tell us that Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy went to the annual Hogwarts Valentine’s Ball together. They were seen dancing and chatting amiably. Mr. Malfoy even danced with Mr. Potter’s children. It sure seems like the Potter and Malfoy family are tightly intertwined._

_Can we assume then that they are dating? Can we wonder whether such a thing is possible? As we all know, Mr. Malfoy is sporting a not-so-lovely Dark Mark on his forearm, and is rumoured to be using Mr. Potter for nothing but his own benefit. Indeed, there has never been an announcement of Mr. Malfoy stating that he was anything but straight. A relationship with the Saviour of the Wizarding World would surely boost the negative image the Malfoy name still holds._

_It is a questionable event, ladies and gentlemen. Much evidence points to a relationship, or at least a spark, but we, as Wizarding community, should try to form an opinion on such a union. Can we be sure that Mr. Malfoy is genuine in his feelings? And even if they are serious, how good can it be for Harry Potter to be with a Death Eater? Should this be allowed? What if Mr. Potter will be Imperiused to do all kinds of bad things?_

_This event also sheds a different light on Mr. Malfoy’s trials after the war. Mr. Potter spoke in his favour, and also of his parents. What if Mr. Malfoy has always had an Imperius-like hold over Mr. Potter, and forced him to speak at the trials? Perhaps Mr. Potter was forced to lie in order to save the Malfoy family from Azkaban? Did Mr. Malfoy get the punishment he deserved?_

_As always, I will try to keep you updated on this matter. For the time being, however, I will ask you to think of what the consequences could be of a relationship between Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. Be harsh, but honest. The postbox of_ The Daily Prophet _is always open for your comments!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that my [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) has its own personality and is feeling very lonely without your attention?
> 
> Comments make the public opinion on Draco be favourable!


	40. Veritaserum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ON TIME!
> 
> Okay, so it's 00.16 for me, but I count it as Sunday still, instead of Monday. So. I am on time. Yes. That doesn't mean it's good content, though. On the contrary, it didn't work out the way I had wanted it to, but I'm tired (didn't sleep last two nights), and lazy. SO you'll have to live with it. Complaints? Please write a comment and give me some constructive criticism. And ideas. I welcome your ideas for this story with open arms.
> 
> I will respond to every comment of last week tomorrow, but right now, I will sleep. Good night :D (dream of bed bugs tonight)

_Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 1: Books, Movies  & Songs_  
_1\. Papa has books, movies and songs that he absolutely loves. Most have a particular meaning or indicate a particular mood, and are only read, watched or listened to at particular moments._  
_2\. Criticism on his favourites can and will result in a major fight, because he feels like you are criticising his mood_  
_3\. Some of the people papa loves unconditionally will have a book, movie or song ‘attributed’ to them, something that reminded him of them and can be used as an encouragement._

 _Papa absolutely loves_ Love Actually _. Ever since he saw it at your place on Christmas Eve, he is hooked. He has seen it at least twice after that. He also loves every Disney movie ever made, with_ Aladdin, The Lion King _and_ Mulan _being his favourites. He recognises himself in Jasmine, the rich one that cannot make their own choices in the world, only to be rescued by a scruffy looking guy. He also has a thing for people that save others, not caring for their own wellbeing, like Mulan does. Thirdly, the guilt and victory over said guilt that prevails in_ The Lion King _, is something he is closely familiar with._  
_Furthermore, there are a couple of songs that papa loves. You may have noticed that he sings regularly, either for us, for Pansy and Blaise, or for himself. Songs he sings for Pansy and Blaise are_ I Will Survive, Stand Up And Fight, _and_ Let It Go. _Songs he sings for us are songs that once spoke to him, reminded him of us, and they now help us whenever we need it. For Scorpius, that is_ In The Blood _, by John Mayer, Aquila has_ Perfect _, Ed Sheeran, Cassie got_ You’ll Be In My Heart, _Phil Collins in the Tarzan musical, and Phi’s song is_ Close Your Eyes _, Westlife.  
His favourite books are _ Romeo and Juliet _, by Shakespeare,_ Pride and Prejudice _by Jane Austen and_ The Ends of the World _by Peter Brannen._

* * *

 

The Potter and Malfoy children were giggling together, and they had been doing so the entire day. Draco was actually losing patience with them. When he caught Cassie snooping in the cupboard in which he kept his potions and ingredients, he may even have lashed out at her, causing her to grumble and ignore him for an hour or so.

After dinner, Draco was tugged to Potter’s apartment, where Potter and his children were lounging about with homework and assignments.

“Malfoy. The tea is fresh and there are mugs in the kitchenette. Can you get it for yourself?” Potter greeted, making space for the five additions.  
“Of course. Now that I am here, can anyone explain what is going on?” Draco asked, pouring five cups of tea and levitating them towards his children.  
Cassie eyed the mug she had gotten with distaste. “Papa, I don’t want this one. Can I have yours? Yours has cool flowers.”

Without thinking, Draco handed her his mug and took the blue one she offered. Lily poured her brothers and Potter some more tea, so that they could all enjoy it.

“Before you drink it,” Scorpius said with a serious voice, only just before Draco took his first sip. “Have you kissed already?”

Potter spluttered in surprise. Draco took a quick sip to gain his composure.

“Why do you ask?” Potter mumbled.  
Scorpius and Albus shared a smug look. “To get papa to drink his tea.”  
“What is going on here?”  
“Your tea is spiked with Veritaserum,” James shrugged simply. “Unfortunately for you, Draco, you now have a healthy dose of Veritaserum in your veins.”  
Potter gaped, an angry spark slowly coming to life in his eyes. “That’s not fair!”  
“Then you should take some too,” Aquila offered, gesturing to Potter’s mug of tea. “To even the odds.”  
“Guys,” Draco warned in a very, very low tone. Ophiuchus placed a soothing hand on his arm, but it didn’t elicit the response he was hoping for.

Lily and Cassie shared a look, after which Lily stood up and asked for attention. “Dad, Draco, we want to say something. You know how much we want you to be together, and we understand that it may take time for you to give in to it. Therefore, we will not force you to answer any questions. However, we think it’s for the best if the two of you talk honestly. No chance of lying, no pretending and no hiding things. Even though you may feel you have bared your soul to one another multiple times now, we know for a fact that there are many unspoken problems between you. We have tried to get you talking about it, but it never worked. Veritaserum was our only option. Punishment is all right, as long as you talk. Please.”

The fact that Draco desperately _wanted_ to be angry, but couldn’t utter a single word of reprimand, was enough proof that he indeed had been dosed with Veritaserum.

“You could have told us explicitly to be honest. You can’t just pour Veritaserum in someone’s tea. I suppose you did that, Cassie?” Potter asked. “Where did you even get it?”  
“Cass was in my potions cupboard today,” Draco answered flatly.  
Aquila petted her sister on the back. “Actually, she was the bait. Albus took it after Potions class when Scorpius was distracting you and I was standing on guard to prevent you from looking around at Albie. Cassie volunteered to be caught out, since she was most likely to get away with it. Which, apparently, she has.”  
Nodding vigorously, James tried to keep Potter and Draco from becoming truly angry. “We only did it for your benefit, you know. Your relationship can never work if you don’t talk things out. We are trying to help, albeit in a morally grey fashion.”  
“But we are getting off track,” Phi announced. “The point is that you should talk. You do not need to do it now, but this way, we at least got your attention and hopefully got it through your skulls that you need to talk. It’s up to you, really.”

Potter looked at Draco for a moment, before he took a large gulp of his spiked tea. “My name is J-J-J. I guess it works.”  
Draco nodded then. “Will you be staying here during our little, very spontaneous talk?” He noticed he could still use sarcasm, so his children hadn’t used an enormous amount of Veritaserum. That was a plus. He would probably also be able to stop himself from babbling.  
“Preferably, yes. Otherwise you would only ask about the other’s favourite colour,” Aquila stated.  
“What _is_ your favourite colour actually?” Potter suddenly asked, cocking his head to the side.

Draco laughed. “Blue. I’m not sure whether I like dark or light better, but I think I’m leaning towards byzantine.”  
At Potter’s puzzled face, Phi cut in to explain that it was a type of blue that could even be seen as grey, in the right lighting. “It compliments his eyes, or so he says.”  
“Exactly. So what’s yours? I desperately hope that it is _not_ red or gold, even though I rationally know that it probably is exactly that.”  
“I do like red, but a dark kind. Like the robes you lent me that time.”  
“Bordeaux. Good choice,” Scorpius said wisely, lazily leaning back with Cassie tucked at his side.

It continued like this until Albus groaned loudly, hitting his head against the table once. “Will you _please_ talk about things that _matter_?”  
“Like what?”  
James sighed. “You know. The war. Nightmares. Draco’s scars. Things that you should work on before you miscommunicate about it.”

The Malfoy children stiffened slightly at James’s suggestions, exchanging glances to establish a safety net for when Draco would fall out.

He didn’t though. He slumped in his chair, picking up his mug of tea and eyeing it warily. With a sigh, he then gulped it down, mumbling something about needing liquid courage for any such conversation.

“I’m not sure that is a good idea,” Potter started hesitantly. Surely Draco wouldn’t want to talk about this, especially not with his children around. Besides, what would they need to discuss? What’s in the past, is in the past. And he knew the facts already.

“All right, let me start.” Ophiuchus sat up straight and looked Potter in the eye. “You know that papa can’t quite forgive you for the scars on his chest. What happened?”  
“Sectumsempra? Malfoy, I told you I’m sorry. I really am, it was such a stupid thing to do –“  
“What happened, Harry?”  
“I was so sure that you were up to something, back in sixth year. I followed you around, with the Marauder’s Map and my Cloak, and I knew something was going on. But then you appeared there, and I realised that, even though you were still doing something that wasn’t right, you were also depressed, and tired. So I followed you to Myrtle’s bathroom, wanting to confront you in hopes that you might talk to me, even if it would be in a fight. You have a habit of being the most honest during fights. And then you were crying, and you wanted to Crucio me, which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t have made much of a difference, because you couldn’t muster up the right amount of hate.”

Potter took a breath, cast a glance at the Malfoy children, who were all listening attentively. Except for Cassie. She was staring at Potter with a look of such unveiled disdain, that he flinched.

“And that year, I had this old Potions book, with alternative instructions written in it. There was a spell in there, said it was for enemies. I cast it without thinking. I didn’t even realise I had cast it. You weren’t even my enemy, not really. I’m sorry, for doing it and for you having those scars still. I –“  
“It was Severus’s book,” Draco commented.  
“Yes.”  
“I know.”

They were silent, Potter fiddling with a loose thread of the pillow he was leaning against, and Draco looking at his hands.

“Severus used it on your father once, I believe.”  
“Yes.”  
“I know.”

Potter sighed softly, glanced up at Draco before he asked his next question. “After Snape died. I mean. How was his funeral?”  
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.”  
“Why not?”  
“We weren’t allowed,” Draco told. “Father, Mother and I couldn’t go to his funeral. Because our trials would happen later that summer, we were very closely traced. There must have been four guards per person, at any time of the day. Not only would our presence, with twelve guards, have been highly disturbing on a funeral, the Auror Department also forbade us to go, since the guards wouldn’t be able to keep a close enough eye on us. The main reason though, the one that was never mentioned out loud but always implied, was that Severus had been a bearer of the Dark Mark. If they would allow known Death Eaters to be present, his funeral could have become a place where the fight was renewed. The Aurors wouldn’t take any chances.”  
“Wasn’t he your godfather?”  
“No. Father didn’t even like him that much, especially since Severus took over his spot as most trusted friend of Riddle.”  
“Then why was he always protecting you?”  
“They were on the same side, and I knew so much, that I had to be protected – along with the information I had. Also, Mother forced him to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect me.”

Potter nodding, taking in the new information. “Have you visited his grave?”  
“No. Same story. The location of his grave has been kept a secret from our family and other known Death Eaters, so that it couldn’t become our new headquarters.”  
“But Snape was killed by Voldemort, he wasn’t in Voldemort’s good graces anymore. Why would Death Eaters use his grave as headquarters?” This was James.  
“Because Severus was a master of distraction and bluff. He could have set an example on how to make people believe that one had redeemed oneself, or how to let them think one is on the good side.”

The frustrated grimace on Draco’s face spoke volumes. Potter smiled at him, trying to get him to cheer up. It worked only minimally.

“Okay, another question. What is that scar from, the one on your hand? It was Umbridge’s work, wasn’t it?” Draco asked.  
“Yes, it was. I had gotten detention once, I don’t even remember why. She made me write lines with a Blood Quill. It was a Dark artefact. I was ‘writing with my own blood’, every word I wrote was carved in my hand. She started using it on everyone that got detention, even first years.”  
“It’s not as bad as I feared. Tell me about your other scars.”  
“There are many that aren’t very interesting. There is this one of course,” Potter wiped the hair of his forehead, showing the lightning bolt. “But you already know how I got that. Ehm, I have a scar from where Nagini bit me once, on my forearm. And on my chest, where Slytherin’s locket touched me, the horcrux, you know. Those are the major ones. There are also scars I got from being an Auror, spell damage and all that, but most of those are barely visible now. I do have a scar on my hip, where a Hippogriff once bit me during a raid, but that’s it.”

Draco nodded, relaxing when he saw that the children weren’t watching as interestedly anymore.

“And your scars?”  
“Nothing as bad as yours. Nothing lasting.”  
“You were Crucio’ed often, I heard. Don’t have you scars from that?”  
“Not really. Bellatrix was fond of directing her Cruciatus to my back, so I have some very unnatural patterns there, but I wouldn’t call them scars.”  
“Okay then. Why do you like _Mulan_ so much?”  
Laughing, Draco Accio’ed the Firewhiskey and tumblers. “First of all, it’s a Disney movie. Secondly, she is fantastic. She hates the injustice of her father having to fight, so she decided to fight in his place. She is willing to sacrifice her life in order to protect her father, and forgoes every stereotype that lives. Mulan is the ideal example of strength, fighting when must and standing up for those one loves.”  
“So you like the hero type?” Potter smirked.  
“N- Yes. Shut up.”

It was only Draco’s luck that his children had tuned back in at that exact moment.

 _Chapter 2: Chocolate And Ice Cream  
Paragraph 3: How he acts around ice cream_  
_1\. Papa’s love for ice cream isn’t as bad as his obsession with chocolate._  
_2\. He is still pathetic, especially at those times that he craves ice cream._  
_3\. If he doesn’t get ice cream at the allotted times, he will get grumpy and childish._

_You have noticed papa’s behaviour around chocolate, we presume, since it is very different from his usual poised grace. With ice cream, he is less childish, and more like a whiny adolescent. He is more annoying around ice cream though, because if it melts, it’s inedible._

_Drawbacks and benefits  
\- Don’t let him eat too much ice cream, even though he is adamant, because he will hate you if he thinks you have let him get fat._  
_\- It is practically impossible to say no to papa when he wants his ice cream._  
_\+ He is absolutely adorable around ice cream, because that is the only way he knows he will get his ice cream._  
_\+ Also, around chocolate he is childish even while eating, but with ice cream, he is just incredibly happy and lovely with ice cream._

* * *

 

At a certain point in the evening, Potter brought out nine bowls of ice cream, the bowl with the biggest scoop was drizzled with a chocolate syrup, and was handed to Draco. Draco’s eyes glittered, a bright smile overtaking his face.

“For me?” he whispered when Potter sat down next to him.  
“Of course. For who else would I buy chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s, and add some homemade chocolate sauce with caramel and pulverised cashews?”

Draco eyed his ice cream with a look full of love and disbelief, before he tucked in, humming. “This is so perfect,” he mumbled around his spoon.

“Look at your papa, he suddenly turned so soft,” Albus grinned. “How did that happen?”  
“Ice cream,” the four Malfoys chorused.  
“He can never really believe it when someone gives him ice cream. Everyone knows of his addiction to chocolate, but not many know how much he loves ice cream. So, _when_ someone knows, and when they know how to handle it, he loves them just that bit more,” Aquila elaborated.  
Ophiuchus nodded. “Exactly. And he becomes pliable and easily manipulated whenever someone offers him ice cream. You can literally make him do anything. Watch.”

The children looked at Potter and Draco, who were canoodling and laughing softly together like newlyweds on their honeymoon.

“How am I doing in the courtship department?” Potter asked.  
Draco smiled at his ice cream, taking a bite before answering. “Pretty good, I’d say. You haven’t broken any of the rules, which pleasantly surprised me.”  
“And the whole affection thing? We should probably start working on uniting our families, or however you would call it, but I was mostly wondering whether there was any affection going on between the two of us.”  
“If you still have to ask, I’m doing something wrong.”  
“That’s a good thing, right? I would really, really like you to start feeling the way I feel for you.”  
“Potter, you do not have to doubt that. I wouldn’t have agreed to any courtship if I didn’t feel some sort of affection for you already.”  
“Has that affection grown in any way, during these few weeks?”  
“You can’t imagine,” Draco grinned coyly. “You are very much my type.”  
“Do you realise that we are already halfway the allotted time for the affection stage?”

Scorpius and Cassie shared a wide-eyed look. “Courtship?” they mouthed at one another. Albus raised an eyebrow, hugging Aquila while they tried to wrap their minds around possibly becoming siblings. James and Ophiuchus grinned, with Phi’s hair turning a vibrant green.

“As we were saying, papa is unable to lie or say no when he has ice cream,” Cassie stated. “I will give you another example, to show that it is not just, as we call it, the ‘Harry Potter Effect’. Papa?”

She leant forward in her chair and gazed at Draco with an earnest expression. When Draco turned to face her, the remnants of a soft smile visible, Cassie continued.

“You always tell us to take care of those that can’t take care of themselves, right?”  
“Right.”  
“There is this boy I met. He barely gets anything to eat, and when he does, he can’t eat it without becoming ill. His clothes aren’t good enough for this weather. He is practically freezing to death. I want to help him.”  
Draco frowned. “Where did you meet this boy? Is he a student at Hogwarts?”  
“No, he isn’t. I saw him in Hogsmeade. I think he is too young to be at Hogwarts, but his family doesn’t love him. Should I do anything to help him?”  
“Of course! Yes, love, you should. Next time you visit him, I will give you some money, so you buy him decent food.”  
“But I can’t just visit him, since we never really met. I saw him a couple times, and I know he needs help, but I can’t visit him.”  
“I’m sure you think of something,” Draco soothed, still frowning slightly. “You can bump into him ‘accidentally’, or knock at his door. If someone else opens the door, you could pretend you had the wrong address. You should bring him around one day, if you can. Perhaps I can help him too.”

Cassie nodded seriously, letting Draco turn back to his cosy conversation with Potter, and smirked at the others. “And that’s how you do it.”  
“I don’t understand. Papa would always want you to help him,” Phi protested.  
“But papa would also know that I am manipulating him, because he always knows, somehow. Trust me. It’s the ice cream.”

James adopted an impressed mask, before frowning incomprehensively.

“There is actually something called the ‘Harry Potter Effect?”

 _Chapter 6: A Few Important Pureblood Rules  
Paragraph 1: Wooing, Marriage  & Public Displays of Affection_  
_Subparagraph c: Public Displays of Affection_  
_1\. On most occasions, it is not done to show any other sign of affection than contact initiated from the hands. Kissing, hugging, hiding one’s face in the other’s neck, is not acceptable._  
_2\. With family and friends, it is much more common to showcase one’s relationship, and sometimes even encouraged._  
_3\. The Golden Rule: Private is always better! (We don’t want to catch you snogging somewhere in the hallways, thank you very much.)_

 _Public events, like Ministry functions, strolling around Diagon Alley, or at the High Table, are not places where you should be putting your relationship out for everyone to see. Holding hands –above the table- is accepted, a hand on one’s back is fine, a small touch to acknowledge one another is decent. However, according to pureblood rules, anything other than that is seen as vulgar or promiscuous. If you want your relationship with papa to be welcomed, you should know this._  
_With friends and family, everything is much less strict, and hugging or wrapping your arm around the other is cute and will result in fond smiles. I recall Christmas at the Burrow, where you and papa were very much entwined, and no one batted an eye._  
_Papa is also an incredibly cuddly person, but he never quite knows whether it is welcome. We noticed that you sometimes get discouraged if papa doesn’t immediately respond, and we like for you to know that it results from him being insecure. Once he realises that you don’t mind –at all-, he will initiate touches more often. Just remember how cuddly and tactile he is with us. So, tug him close, reassure him that you like his hugs, and it will be all right._

* * *

 

The next day, Saturday, Neville had invited Draco and Potter to come visit him and Hannah in London for an evening with the ‘old gang’. Neville had even asked Draco to invite Pansy, Blaise and Greg. And when Draco told him that Blaise was going to meet up with his work partner, Theodore Nott, Neville responded by extending the invitation to him as well.

And so, Draco had told Phi to sleep in Scorpius’s dorm with Albus and two other Slytherins, and promised Cassie to come find her if she stayed in the common room until he returned. Potter, Neville and Draco Apparated together to the Leaky Cauldron, where Hannah had cleared it entirely to allow their friends to have a pleasant evening.

The ‘old gang’ consisted of the required Gryffindors, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Parvati Patil and Lee Jordan, and Neville of course. Then there was Hannah who represented the Hufflepuffs, together with Susan Bones. The Ravenclaws present were Luna and Padma Patil. Pansy, Greg, Blaise, Theo and Draco were the Slytherin counterparts for this evening.

Draco’s friends hadn’t arrived yet when he got there, so when the bell rang, Draco sprang up to open the door for them.

“Draco!” Theo called. “Long time no see, buddy. So, you’ve made friends with the Gryffindors, huh? Well done, mate, well done.”  
Raising an eyebrow, Draco opened the door wider to place a supporting hand on Greg’s shoulder. “It seems I have. Why don’t you get in?” When he was alone with Greg, he raked his gaze over his friend’s posture. “You look better, Greg.”  
“Thanks. I feel a lot better. It’s been only two months, but I already feel myself again.”  
“Good. Are you all right for this evening?”  
“I think I will be, as long as no one offers to bring me alcohol or gamble with me.”  
Draco smiled. “Don’t worry. I made sure they wouldn’t.”

Greg grinned, holding Draco still when he was about to walk inside. “Thank you. Truly.”  
“What for? The rehab?”  
“No, I mean… Suddenly, my Gringotts vault is much fuller than I had expected after gambling everything away.”  
“You must have owned more than you thought. Lucky you,” Draco commented.  
“Or I have very loyal and selfless friends.”  
“No, I don’t think so. Of course we are loyal, but Pansy and Blaise don’t have that much to spare either, I thought.”  
“And yet, the two of them have been able to pay their fines, keep their estates and get decent jobs, without resume. Coincidental, don’t you think?”  
“Very. We Slytherins may still have some good karma after all.”  
Laughing softly, Greg punched Draco in the arm. “None of us would have made it without you.”

They walked inside, Draco trying to persuade Greg that it wasn’t his doing at all, and encountered a living room full of people from their year –and Ginny and Luna- in a circle on the ground, with drinks in their hands or in front of them. There was a space beside Potter and one between Pansy and Blaise, where Draco and Greg went to sit, respectively.

“Why are we on the ground?” Draco asked.  
“We are going to play a game. We just need to decide which game,” Hermione explained with a grin.  
Seamus, seated between Draco and Dean, came up with Spin the Bottle, but none of them was really up for anything kissing-related.  
“How about Truth or Dare?” Pansy offered.  
“That’s not fun. I am too lazy to move a muscle, so it would be more like a game of Truth or Truth,” Susan complained.  
“Besides, our group consists of people who went through a war, and had to lie in order to survive. How are we going to ensure that everyone is being honest?”  
Pansy pulled a large vial of something that looked suspiciously like Veritaserum from her purse. “We are wizards, Ron. Honesty isn’t difficult to ensure.”  
“Where did you get that from?”  
“No comment,” Pansy grinned. “But what do you think?”

Most of the people present mumbled their consent, but a few –Draco, Greg, Potter, Hermione and Seamus- remained hesitant.

“There are things I do _not_ want to say, or think about. Can’t we make up some rules about what or what not to ask?” Potter frowned. “I really don’t want to relive some of the worst moments.”  
“Exactly,” Greg agreed quietly. Draco smiled encouragingly at him, which seemed to ease some of Greg’s tension.  
“Of course, rules are fine. We could have a sort of safe word? Everyone only takes three drops, which will prevent any babbling. That way, if someone asks something you don’t want to answer, you can call out the safe word and another question will be asked, something incredibly basic, like your favourite drink. Everyone agreed?”

Draco looked at Greg before nodding, to make sure that his friend really was all right with the way this evening was going to go, and dropped the Veritaserum on his tongue.

“I suggest Pansy asks the first question,” Hermione began.  
Pansy inclined her head in thanks and turned to Draco, to start safely. “Truth or dare?”  
“Truth.”  
“I don’t think everyone here is quite aware. Would you mind telling us, dear, what is your sexual orientation?”  
Draco chuckled. “I’m bisexual.”

The few that didn’t know this, including Theo, made some surprised noises, and looked between him and Potter.

“Luna, truth or dare?”  
“Let’s go with dare.”  
“Do the dance you do to get rid of Nargles.”

Luna giggled, stood up and did an odd dance. Seamus called something about this being boring, after which the questions and dares got more personal.

“Harry, truth or dare?” Ginny asked, seated next to Dean.  
“Dare.”  
“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in this room.”

Groans went through the room, as Hermione complained about Ginny being uncreative, but Ginny smirked. “You know, because I heard something about you being in a relationship?”  
“Yes, _are_ the two of you in a relationship?” Theo piped up.  
“You shouldn’t believe everything _The Daily Prophet_ is saying, Theo,” Draco answered airily.  
Theo narrowed his eyes at him. “Frankly, _Blaise_ told me that you had the hots for Harry. Or am I supposed to assume that Blaise doesn’t know these things?”  
“Did he now?” Draco glared at Blaise. “Well, I can honestly tell you that Potter and I are not in a relationship.”  
Pansy frowned. “Did you take your Veritaserum?”  
“Of course I did.”  
“But –“

With a flourish, Potter slung his arm over Draco’s shoulder and gave him a peck on his cheek, effectively shutting everyone else up. Ginny wore a disappointed expression, while Draco was just trying to stop blushing.

“I said ‘kiss’, Harry.”  
“And that was a kiss. You didn’t specify. Theo, truth or dare?”

And so, the game went on, until it was Pansy’s turn again and she chose Draco again.

“Truth.”  
“You always say you would do anything for your children. Would you kill for them?”  
“Yes.”  
Hannah laughed. “Not a trace of hesitation, did you hear?”  
“Really? Would you die for them, too?” Parvati then asked.  
“Yes.”  
“I think there are several parents that would do so, especially since the war,” Ron commented. “The real question is: would you take a Dementor’s Kiss for them?”  
“Yes.”  
Greg frowned. “No. The question that we really should ask, is whether you would go to Azkaban for them. Would you?”  
There was only a split second pause before Draco nodded again, affirming that he would, indeed, risk Azkaban for them.

“Why are you all pretending that a Kiss is worse than death, and Azkaban is worse than a Kiss?” Dean wondered.  
Draco took a sip from his drink and sighed. “Here’s the deal. I don’t have a problem with killing someone for my children, because that would mean that my children have suffered at someone’s hand, and I would gladly stop that. I would also die for them, if that meant protecting them just a moment longer. I think this is simple. A Kiss, however, is worse than death, because my children won’t be able to have a proper goodbye. They will forever know that I am suffering, while I won’t remember them, and I will have become inhumane. It would hurt my children to see me like that, brainless and completely out of it.”  
“But why is Azkaban worse than a Kiss?”  
“Because, being who I am, I wouldn’t be allowed visitors. I would sit in my cell all day long, knowing that I wouldn’t get out again, and knowing that somewhere in the world, my children are continuing their lives. They wouldn’t be able to say goodbye, just like with a Kiss, but they would also know that I am still thinking of them and longing for them. The fact that they wouldn’t be allowed to visit, would make it worse for both them and me. Azkaban is the slowest, most painful and torturous way of separating people, especially for my family. Other prisoners still have visitors from time to time. I would see nothing but my walls, until I die.”

It was silent for a long time, where everyone seemed to ponder what Draco had just said.

“Have you thought about this a lot?” Padma asked.  
“Yes. I need to be prepared for when I die.”  
“Why? You have survived the war. Why think about your death now?”  
“Because I am me. I am Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater that got away. If there is anyone in the Wizarding World that should be prepared for an unexpected death, it would be me.”  
“Because someone might attack you?”  
“Possibly.”  
Neville laughed nervously. “Next question?”

After a while, Susan, who had been eyeing every exchange between Draco and Potter with interest, asked Potter what he would say to Draco, if he only had one chance. Potter grinned sheepishly, frowned and then uttered something that vaguely sounded like French.

“What?”  
“ _Ais-tu une idée quelle chance, je suis à vous connaître ? Je veux être avec toi,”_ Potter repeated.  
Draco smiled, while the others were asking for a translation. Neither Potter nor Draco provided one.  
“So Malfoy. Truth or dare?”  
“Dare. I’m tired of sitting.”  
The grin on Potter’s face told Draco that it had been a bad choice. “Sing for us.”

Pansy, Greg, Blaise and Theo all perked up at the mention of Draco performing. Theo quickly reminded Draco that he couldn’t refuse, since it was a dare, and Greg requested _I Will Survive_.

“Oh yes, Draco, do _I Will Survive_. You have such a good dance with that song,” Blaise implored. Even though the non-Slytherins had no idea what they were talking about, they saw how awkward it made Draco, and supported the idea.

Draco seemed to decide then, that if he was going to go down with embarrassment, then Potter was too, since he had come up with the dare. He steered Potter to one of the high bar stools and ducked behind a wall, adjusting the lighting with his wand for maximum effect.

“Why do I have to sit here?” Potter whined.  
“He needs an object for his seduction skills, isn’t that obvious?” Theo laughed.

Pansy shushed them when the music started playing and Draco appeared, it became clear to the others that Draco had shrugged off all of his awkwardness, and he was deliberately moving as slowly, languidly and undeniably flirtatious as possible. Soon, they started cheering him on as Draco focussed his hooded-eyed attention on Potter and Potter alone.

“Malfoy –“ Potter started, but was cut off when Draco’s hand landed on his chest and stayed there, perfectly still and yet so very distracting.

“It’s really –“ Potter tried, but was interrupted by the soft, barely there touch of Draco’s fingertips at his jaw, not present enough to actually be called a touch, but not absent enough for Potter to ignore.

“We shouldn’t –“ Potter breathed, but was stopped by the look of utter adoration and love written plainly on Draco’s face, too much to handle so unexpectedly, and yet everything Potter wanted.

The song finished, and Draco let go of Potter, casually sitting down again at his former spot on the ground. A few seconds passed before Potter was in control of his breathing again, and lowered himself next to Draco, carefully preventing any touch.

With this performance, everyone seemed to have had enough of Truth or Dare, and there were comfortable conversations flowing everywhere.

“You upped your game then, I think?” Potter managed.  
Draco shot a grin in Potter’s direction. “You forced me to do this in front of all these people. I should be allowed to take you down with me.”  
“If you say so. It was good, though. You’re a good dancer.”  
“Thanks. You’re a good… bar stool-sitter?”  
Potter laughed. “I get that a lot. I always say, practice makes perfect. Do you want some more water?”  
“No, thank you. I could use something warm. A blanket, or a cup of tea.”  
“I’m not making tea for you. I could ask Neville for a blanket, though?”  
Draco hummed non-committedly, eyeing Potter from the corner of his eye. Potter looked at the jumper he was wearing and back at Draco, before chuckling and opening his arms to invite Draco in.

If Draco cuddled closer and wriggled his hand under Potter’s jumper to touch his warm skin, then it was no one’s business but their own, even if everyone around them started making jokes about how they obviously were in a relationship already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) says hi. Will you say hi back?
> 
> Comments are very welcome! Comments are my life and my love. Comments are the Minnie to my Mickey, the left sock to my right sock, the oxygen to my red blood cells, the sugar to my cake, and the Scorpius to my Draco. I'm just not complete without your comments.
> 
> Translation of the French: Do you have any idea how happy you make me? I want to be with you


	41. New Meddling and PLanning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo I'm late again, I'm such a prodigy and I am so good at keeping to deadlines. (Forgive me.)
> 
> Also, whoooooo, it's not a well-written chapter again, I'm such a prodigy and I am so good at focussing on my writing so that it actually is of a quality that I consider 'all right'. (Forgive me.)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. Of course you will, because I'm a prodigy xD

_Chapter 5: Must Knows_   
_Paragraph 7: Family  & Friends_  
_Subparagraph a: Parents_  
_1\. We said it before, and we’ll say it again. Do not insult his parents. They may have been wrong, but he will not allow insults._  
_2\. He does need you to be able to stand up again Grandfather. If you cannot stand up against him, papa will let you go._  
_3\. Grandmère is probably the only person that can keep papa and Grandfather from fighting. Which is a very good thing to know, if you’re going to stick around._

_Papa is the most typical Slytherin we can think of. He is immensely loyal to his family, and will forever protect them. As you know, he and Grandfather do not look eye to eye in political matters. In fact, they are usually on complete opposite sides. However, no one is allowed to speak badly of his parents. He is possessive and jealous, which manifests in extreme protectiveness. If you reject a chocolate Grandmère send him, you are done. If you can’t manage to have a civil conversation with Grandfather, you are done. If you look at one of the portraits wrong, you are done. Be aware of this._

_Drawbacks and benefits_   
_\- Everything that can be taken as an insult, will be taken as such._  
_\- Papa can make a party or get-together very awkward, just because he snaps when someone (unconsciously) says something bad._  
_\+ At least you know he’s got your back._  
_\+ It has resulted in much less (public) disrespect towards our family._

* * *

 

The thing is, Potter didn’t want to be here. He just knew it would be terribly awkward, and there was no reason at all that he should be here. Alas, Draco was forcing him, and he didn’t have the heart to refuse him. Not after the evening they just had, with Neville and Hannah and the rest of the gang. They had so much fun, the Slytherins seemed to have fitted in perfectly, even though they were much sassier than the rest. Most of all, Draco had charmed the pants off of everyone. By embarrassing Potter a lot, but Potter could let that slide.

And now, Draco had pulled Potter along to Sunday roast at the Manor.

Lovely.

The good thing was that both Draco and Potter had brought their children. It took the edge off. Albus had sporadically met Lucius and Narcissa on birthday parties of Scorpius, and Lily was sweet enough to have Narcissa doting on her immediately. Lucius stayed away from James, Albus and Potter, but couldn’t resist Lily’s smile. Especially when Lily and Cassie appeared to be best friends, giggling together and often glancing at their respective families.

“Harry, glad to see you again,” Narcissa smiled when she finally reached Potter, after having indulged the children in many conversation.  
“Same to you. How are you?”  
“Oh, let’s lose the formalities. You are courting my son, I am not inclined to keep you at an arm’s length.”  
Potter let out a relieved sigh. “Good, formalities are tiring.”  
“That they are. Has Draco shown you around the house already?”  
“No, he hasn’t. Is there much to see, except for bedrooms?”

Narcissa laughed, waving Lucius closer. Lucius reluctantly joined them, grumbling when Narcissa asked him to show Potter around. Draco shot Potter a concerned look when he saw him leaving with his father.

“The east wing consists of private quarters. The west wing, however, contains the library, a wine and whiskey storage, and portrait galleries. We will start with the storage. As you may realise, this is not merely a cellar with some alcoholic drinks. It’s a collection of rare, special or old examples from probably the best distilleries in the world. Not only is it a private enjoyment, but our collection is also known amongst experts.”

Potter nodded sweetly, not really listening, but curiously looking at the house Draco had grown up in.

“We are now entering the galleries. There are five large galleries and thirteen smaller ones. Portraits of every direct Malfoy ancestor, going back to the first known Malfoy to step on English ground. That particular Malfoy was called A –“  
“Armand Malfoy, part of the army of William the Conqueror, in 1066. He built the Manor, didn’t he?” Potter interrupted. He couldn’t help his smug smile when Lucius sneered.  
“Yes. Of every Malfoy heir, we have a portrait of himself, a portrait of their family in the main drawing room, and a portrait of their family in front of the house. It records the entire line and their changes to our home. For example, Septimus Malfoy, my grandfather, was Minister of Magic in the early nineteenth century.”  
“Arthur’s father is called Septimus, too. He was married to a Black.”  
“Yes,” Lucius drawled. He didn’t seem pleased.  
“My apologies, I interrupted. Please continue.”

Lucius’s lip twitched in annoyance, but continued nonetheless.

“As you see, we have only been walking through the large galleries. The smaller galleries contain informal portraits, paintings of wives, daughters, children, et cetera. All in all, they are less interesting. There are some wonderful paintings of Draco’s children there. Would you like to see them?”  
Potter raised an eyebrow at Lucius’s obvious attempt at being more than polite, and nodded gratefully.

Motioning for Potter to go first, Lucius gave his guest some time to look around the small gallery in wonder, before he started speaking again. It was nothing more than a large room, with paintings everywhere. One wall was completely dedicated to Draco and his children, in many different surroundings and ages.

“Most of these were commissioned by Draco himself. He always said that if he was ever supposed to live in this house, the bricks should already be acquainted with his children.”  
“That’s a sweet metaphor.”  
“It isn’t a metaphor. This is a magical house, Mr. Potter, made with magic and held up by magic. The house absorbs the different signatures, which is how the wards can recognise which changes to allow and which to reject as soon as possible. The interaction between magical paintings and the magic of the bricks has been intensively researched in the early ages.”  
“Ah, okay. So Malfoy is actually planning on coming to live here?”

A nasty sneer took over Lucius’s face, before he masked it again. “He will have to, if he wants to be Master of the Malfoy family.”  
“Why?”  
“It’s a part of the magic. No one can take full control of the estates and businesses, unless they have Malfoy blood, live in the Manor and are officially offered the position of Master.”  
“That’s a lot of requirements.”  
“Of course. We wouldn’t want just about everyone to take control of our possession. Most old families have such things.”  
“It must be difficult magic, to include even the blood requirement.”  
“The series of spells that resulted in that was privately developed by Lucius Malfoy I. I have never heard of any other family managing this.”  
“Family branches that have been disowned can never become proper heirs, can they?”  
“Formally disowning includes a lot of paperwork. This paperwork needs even more paperwork to be overruled. It can be undone, but that barely ever happens.”  
“If I understand correctly, disowning can be reversed by the official family heir?” Potter asked absently.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes, in theory. But in some –many- cases, there has been a good reason for that family branch to be disowned, reasons based on the law, for example. In those cases, a judge has to allow reversal. It very rarely happens that reversal is allowed.”  
“And in cases where the disowning was unfair?”  
“Unfair disowning is uncommon, Mr. Potter.”  
“But it happens. In some families.”  
“In those cases, the official heir can reverse it, but as I said, it’s a lot of paperwork.”  
“What would constitute as ‘a lot’?”  
“Months. The law says that the heir needs to send a formal request of reversal every day for three months at least. And formal requests, according to this pureblood law, is at least one entire roll or parchment, full of wordy sentences and nonsensical pleads.”

They moved from the small gallery to the library, but didn’t stay there for long. The moment they got back into the dining room, where everyone was already seated, Phi and Aquila shot up. Phi flung himself at Lucius, who caught him so easily that everyone seemed surprised. Lucius very wisely pretended that nothing was wrong and sat down at the head of the table, with Phi in his lap.

Aquila, who had come up to Potter to ask whether she could fly with Albus and Scorpius later that afternoon, lead Potter to the empty seat at the table after getting her answer, and started talking to Cassie again.

Potter was seated next to Narcissa, who was on Lucius’s left hand, across from Draco. Draco had adopted a different air than usual, more relaxed while also more regal. However, after he saw that Potter and Lucius were both calm when they returned from the tour, he leant back in his chair and smiled at Potter, and kept smiling throughout the afternoon.

The kind embrace Narcissa gave Potter and his children, was enough to charm a smile on Potter’s face too.

_Chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions_   
_Paragraph 4: Sports_  
_1\. Papa isn’t the most athletic of people, and he has a bad back that bothers him more often than not, but he loves a good bit of sports once in a while._  
_2\. The sports he does, are: running, Quidditch, hippogriff riding, regular flying and boxing._  
_3\. He isn’t good at losing, especially when he’s playing to deal with emotions. He also doesn’t want you to let him win. It’s a delicate balance._

_Papa has many sports he only plays when he feels certain things. He loves running and playing Quidditch, the latter you probably already know. His favourite –and best- position is of course the Seeker position. According to him and the Hogwarts annual records, the only Seeker that could ever beat him, was you. If he is particularly afraid, he likes to play Beater, because it is a position of control and surety. The Chaser position is only played when he is frustrated or angry, since it requires the same speed as being a Seeker, but less sharpness of eye and control over his actions. It allows him to lose his restless energy._  
_Regular flying is something he enjoys when he needs to think and ponder and make a decision. He doesn’t particularly like hippogriffs, but riding them is one of his favourite pastimes. We own six hippogriffs, stabled at the Lodge. He rides when he needs to clear his head, which is something different entirely from having to think, but it works the same._

* * *

 

That Friday, during the experimental potion brewing with Neville’s ingredients, Theresa couldn’t stop talking about the Quidditch game between Slytherin and Gryffindor that would happen the next day. It was better than having her question every interaction between Draco and Potter, but still, it grated on Draco’s nerves. Luckily, he was spared from answering, since James had taken Theresa’s enthusiasm as a challenge, and made sure to be at least as excited.

Which led to Draco brewing the potion on his own, but he didn’t mind. It was only a test-run potion, with easy ingredients and boring processes.

Draco smiled when the results told him that this potion also worked. He and Theresa were almost finished with the project, though Draco hadn’t had the heart to tell his apprentice that yet. Theresa had improved significantly during their time together, in control of her movements and ability to brew even the most difficult potions under pressure.

“James, Theresa, please. Could you knock it off?” Draco grumbled, pouring the potion in vials and labelling them as test-runs.  
“You sound like my mother,” Theresa quipped, finally helping with bottling.  
“Good. Perhaps you’ll listen to me for once. Say, James, how are things with Suzanne?”  
James blushed. “Very well, thank you.” After a quirked eyebrow of Draco, he elaborated, smiling shyly. “We want to keep it quiet for now, but we’re actually in a relationship.”

Draco gave him a resounding high-five and ignored the surprised look in Theresa’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Jamie? I’m supposed to know these things!”  
“Because! I wasn’t sure what you would say.”  
“That hurts. I thought we were friends.”  
“Oh really? Here I was thinking that you were James’s second father,” Theresa interrupted with an eye-roll.  
James snorted. “Right, _friends_. If you call that thing with Dad ‘friendship’, I don’t want to be friends with you.”  
“You’ve been spending too much time with Slytherins lately, Jame-o. I’m not sure I like it.”  
“You don’t have much say in it, do you?” James grinned. “Unless you would be my papa.”

Pointedly huffing and turning around to put the vials away, Draco looked at the small paper on his desk, on which Potter’s message in his distinct scrawl was waiting for an answer.

_Tu me rends heureux. Je suis follement amoureux._ _Would you come flying with me? I would have wanted to arrange a dragon, but that wasn’t possible. Not even with my name. I hope a hippogriff is okay? The weather is wonderful and I think, with the blooming spring everywhere, the view would be breath-taking.  
Besides, I want to be alone with you. Those pureblood rules are suffocating me._

As Draco was pondering what to answer, Theresa and James were walking out, their bickering loud but comforting. In the end, when their voices had faded away, Draco stuffed the note in his pocket and stalked towards Hagrid’s hut.

Potter wasn’t there yet. Hagrid, however, shoved a large mug of brown, sluggish liquid in front of Draco and offered him a cookie.

“Yeh an’ Harry are gettin’ close, aren’ yeh? ‘ve noticed. Harry came to ask me for Witherwings, so you could fly with ‘im. Good, good.”  
Draco smiled, a bit nervously. He hadn’t spoken Hagrid since before the war. “Ah, yes. We are, ehm, in a friendship of sorts.”  
“No need to preten’. He tol’ me all ‘bout yesself. ‘s good, gettin’ ov’r ol’ rivalries. Yeh’re two brigh’ young men, yeh woul’ be good tog’ther.”  
“Right. Well, thank you, I suppose. I presume Potter has stayed in touch with you over the years?”  
“Aye, he has. Takin’ care of the Witherwings when I was away, and such.”  
Tentatively taking a sip, Draco racked his brain to come up with a new conversational subject, but was interrupted by Potter’s voice. He and Hagrid exchanged a few pleasantries, before Witherwings was called and they took off without much trouble. Potter even let Draco steer, which meant that Draco could ensure no one saw them.

They flew for an hour, after which their hands were cold and they returned to Hagrid’s for another mug of hot, brown, sluggish something.

It seemed that everyone, even outsiders like Hagrid, approved of their courtship.

_Chapter 1: Parler à la Français_   
_Paragraph 1: Basic phrases_  
_Subparagraph b: Simple conversation_  
_1\. Est-ce que tu aimes cuisiner ? = Do you enjoy cooking?_  
_2\. Le temps est si imprévisible = the weather is so unpredictable_  
_3\. Tu aimes voyager ? = Do you enjoy travelling?_  
_4\. Est-ce que tu sais l’heure ? = Do you know what time it is?_  
_5\. Qu’est-ce que tu ais pensé de ce livre ? = What did you think of that book?_  
_6\. Quels sont tes rêves pour l’avenir ? = What are your dreams for the future?_  
_7\. Quel est ton endroit préféré que tu ais jamais visité ? Pourquoi ? = What’s your favourite place you’ve ever visited? Why?_  
_8\. Est-ce que tu ais visité…? = Have you visited …?_  
_9\. Je ne comprends pas = I don’t understand_  
_10\. Que changerais-tu de toi-même et pourquoi? = What would you change about yourself and why?_

* * *

 

“So, the Harry Potter effect?” James wondered out loud, sitting at the Great Lake with Aquila. Phi was throwing rocks at the Giant Squid and the others were probably inside, doing their homework.

Aquila laughed. “What about it?”  
“Does it actually exist?”  
“Yes. It is also known as the ‘Saviour Swoon’.”  
James frowned. “Draco isn’t the kind of person that swoons when he sees Dad.”  
“Nope. Okay, I’ll explain. With the ‘Saviour Swoon’, we mean that there are a lot of people that start swooning and drooling and sucking up to Harry, right? They get nervous, and kind, and all they want is a smile from the Boy-Who-Lived.”  
“Yes, that actually happens. So?”  
“So, papa doesn’t have that. Papa has never fallen for the saviour business, even though he was jealous and he loves Harry’s selflessness. But he isn’t one of the Swoon victims. However, there is the Harry Potter effect. This is the effect of Harry Potter on papa. The effect is that every emotion papa feels, is amplified, be it anger of happiness.”  
“I don’t believe that.”  
“Think of the entire year. What happened between papa and Harry?”

Knitting his eyebrows together, James pulled his scarf somewhat closer around his neck and thought. “First, they met again. And they became friends?”  
“Not friends, though. Papa already started fancying that git, however much he denied it. Next.”  
“Next was … the duel?”  
“Exactly. Papa wouldn’t have responded in any such way if it was anyone else. You know how he responded when Scorpius was beat up. He keeps his cool, as long as people stay away from his family. The only reason he lashed out at Harry, was because of the HP effect.”  
James grinned. “And then came Christmas.”  
“Where papa was falling in love with Harry –“  
“And he came round to the Burrow, and you guys joined us on Christmas Eve, and they held hands, et cetera, et cetera.”  
“After that, we started with the book, and Harry started doing the right things to win papa over,” Aquila supplied, after which James threw his head back in laughter.  
“And Draco couldn’t help but fall irrevocably and unconditionally in love, could he?”  
“Exact.”

They both stared at Phi, until Matias sat down next to Aquila and wound an arm around her shoulders.  
“What were you talking about?”  
Aquila smiled. “Papa and Harry.”  
“Cool. Are they together yet?”  
Phi sat down heavily on James’s lap. “No. I hate it. Why is it taking so long?”  
“Patience, Ophiuchus. You know papa, he is going to postpone it as long as humanly possible. Until he collapses from pining,” Aquila stated.  
“I don’t like it. Why wouldn’t papa just jump right in?”  
James laughed. “Little Gryffindor, you are. Will you join me in my House next year? Red would look good on you, especially if you keep your hair black.”  
“I always though Cassie was the Gryffindor in our family,” Scorpius sounded. He, Albus, Cassie and Lily came up to them with large cups of tea under a Stasis charm, and handed everyone a cup to drink. Suzanne and Manila, who had apparently become friends after finding out they were both entering the Potter family, were waved over by James. Even the majority of the Weasley offspring joined them for their afternoon tea at the Great Lake.

“But are they together already, or not?” Dominique asked Scorpius, who shook his head.  
“It’s sort of complicated,” Cassie answered. “Pureblood rules dictate a formal courtship of three stages: acquaintanceship, approval and affection. We have good reason to believe that they are courting, and we think they are in the affection stage, but it took them quite a while to get there. And since ‘affection’ is supposed to take four times the period of the other two stages combined, I doubt they will be in an official relationship very soon.”  
Louis scowled. “Whose fault is it? Honestly, why can’t they just snog and make up already?”  
“Oh, trust me, I’m sure they have snogged,” Albus snorted. “Have you seen the way they look at each other?”  
“No, no, they haven’t. They can’t have, papa wouldn’t have allowed it,” Scorpius lectured. “Pureblood rules and all that.”

A collective groan rose from their group.

“How can we speed it up?” Roxane then spoke up.  
The Malfoy children shared some glances, after which four identical wicked grins appeared.

“It depends on how much you are willing to do,” Phi announced darkly, mostly focussing on the Potter children. It resulted in confused looks –and slightly terrified nods- but eventually, everyone agreed that they would go to the moon and back, if it meant realising the unity of their families.

“What we need to do is simple,” Scorpius started, having taken over control again. Aquila had produced some parchment and a quill from her bag, just like Rose and Hugo had, and they divided into three groups of four or five.

Scorpius walked around to ensure maximum efficiency and to help where necessary.

“The trick is to make Harry state it as obvious and clear as possible. No question, no hesitant smiles, no loophole through which papa can escape,” were the instructions. “Harry needs to demand an answer, by getting either angry or sad. Rely on the Harry Potter Effect. Try to use as much of papa’s weaknesses as possible. But most of all: do not try to be subtle. They are allowed to know that we have had enough. If they realise we are driving them into a corner, where they cannot get out unless we let them, they will have to make a decision.”

The Malfoy, Potter and Weasley children, who had now started to call themselves the Order of the Unicorn, eventually came up with sixty-seven ideas to achieve their goal, all of which were wonderful and worth a shot.

It was a shame that they would never get a chance to try any of those ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh! Don't forget to leave a comment! If I get comments, I will be more inclined to update regularly ;-)
> 
> And come visit my [tumble door!](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com), because it's empty without your love...


	42. Rejected... or not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFGHADSKJAG

_Chapter 4: Dealing with Emotions  
Paragraph 2: Rejection_  
_1\. Papa does not deal well with rejection._  
_2\. He feels is very keenly and very rapidly, because of his insecurities_  
_3\. Make sure not to reject him unintentionally. Please._

_We think this may be obvious already, and perhaps we’ve said it before, but we like to state it explicitly now. Papa cannot handle rejection. He binds himself to people with his entire being, vowing to protect them forever. But when that person leaves him, or disappoints him, or rejects him, he loses a part of himself that he will not be able to reclaim. It ruins him. We’ve seen it happen with Mother; even though they were never truly in love, he had settled for a life with her and us as a family. They had a deal, that Mother could have as many paramours as she wanted, as long as none of us would ever find out. Papa trusted she would keep her promise, and held himself to his side of the bargain faithfully. However, one day, Scorpius and Cassie came home from a snowball fight, and they saw Mother with her mister in a rather… cosy position. Papa thinks we don’t know the true reason of their divorce –the break of this promise and his trust- so we pretend that we don’t. But we do._

_This example shows how sharply papa feels a rejection. Even his marriage to Mother, a marriage out of political benefit, based on trust, and no love or friendship involved, was able to bring him down to ruin. Imagine how he feels if someone he truly cares about would betray him. Talk to him. Communicate. Explain what’s bothering you. Don’t ignore him in hopes that it gets better. He cannot handle such things._

* * *

 

Potter had been distant the entire week. They hadn’t spent time together since flying with Witherwings, and had barely exchanged polite conversation at the High Table during meals. Draco was getting anxious, fidgeting with his robes and even sending bits of food flying around because of a nervous twitch of his hands. Potter had been kind about that, of course, a soft smile gracing his lips and a sparkle in his eyes, but as soon as Draco had relaxed somewhat, thinking that they were all right, Potter had turned to talk to one of the other teachers. All the while, Draco felt the eyes of the Weasleys, Malfoys and Potters on him, doubtlessly trying to find ways to intervene.

But Potter didn’t appear open to any conversation. And Draco was having a very hard time coming up with a reason for it.

At the moment, he was in his office to do some work, albeit slower than usual because he got distracted with every creak of the door. When finally the door fully opened, it wasn't Potter, like Draco had hoped.

“Hi papa,” Cassie smiled. Draco quickly pushed down his disappointment and smiled back. “Remember how I told you about that boy in Hogsmeade?”  
“Yes, yes, of course. Did you get in touch with him?”  
“Er, yes, I guess I did. I’d like you to meet him.”  
Draco frowned. “Now? Is he here at Hogwarts?”  
“He is.”

Standing up to be as hospitable as possible, Draco waved his wand so that the kettle in the back of his office would start boiling water. Cassie smirked.

“I may have mislead you a bit,” she warned, ignoring Draco’s deepening frown.  
“In what sense?”  
“It’s not a boy in the way you may imagine a boy.”  
“What?” he mumbled confusedly.  
“And I did it because you needed to be cheered up. Don’t be angry.”  
“ _What?_ ” Draco now groaned.

From behind her back, Cassie brought out a soft, small, white, fluffy piece of animal.

“Oh no. Oh no no no. No, Cass. No way. There is no way.”  
“His name is Alistair.”  
“No, it isn’t. There is no Alistair. I don’t want that. You know my rules.”  
“You need company, papa.”  
“I have you guys.”  
“Papa.”  
“Cassiopeia, keep that away. Now.”  
“Papa.”  
“Cass.”  
“Papa.”  
“Cass.”  
“Papa.”  
“Cass.”  
“Papa.”  
“Cass, I’m serious!”  
“So am I! I know you love animals, why won’t you adopt Alistair?”  
Draco groaned. “Animals are filthy –“  
“- dependant creatures that should not be kept in a neat yet far too chaotic house like ours,” Cassie supplied. “I _know_. Please, consider it.” She thrust the beast out for Draco to take, but he flinched away.  
“Love, even if I would allow a pet, I would never, under no circumstances, in my right mind, adopt a bloody _ferret_!”  
“But it looks like you!”  
“Cass –“  
“I bet, if you would be a ferret, you would look just like Alistair. I dreamt about that once.”  
Draco slumped back in his chair, gesturing hopelessly. “I am not going to take Alistair in. Where did you get him?”  
“I told you, in Hogsmeade.”  
“I doubt there are wild ferrets strutting around in Hogsmeade.”  
Cassie rolled her eyes. “He was kept by a family that shaved his fur in the winter, and he didn’t get enough to eat. He lived in the smallest cage possible. It was abuse.”  
“Have you _stolen_ it?”  
“No! Alistair came to me.”  
Sighing heavily, Draco allowed Cassie to put Alistair on his desk. “Why do you think I need its company?”  
Cassie smiled, knowing that she had won. “Because you are –inexplicably, may I add- pining over Harry, and I thought you might like the company of someone whose name means ‘defender of mankind’. You know, to feel like Harry is anywhere close.”  
“Sometimes, I really don’t like you,” Draco mumbled, but he absentmindedly petted the white ferret while it scoured his desk.

Apparantly, he was adopting pets now.

_Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 5: Cutlery_  
_1\. All the plates, cutlery and napkins ought to be pristine and perfect. One dirty spot will result in a hissy fit._  
_2\. There are three different types of cutlery and plates, and they are all used at different times and events._  
_3\. It may be a high society kind of thing, but papa needs you to know the specifics of which glass belongs to which wine, and such. We won’t elaborate on that here, but you’ll need to learn it eventually._

_The three types of cutlery are plain silver, silver with the Malfoy crest, or gold with pink flowery patterns. The plain silver cutlery is used in combination with the plain, off-white plates and moss green serviettes, which is what we use every regular day. The second type, silver with the Malfoy crest, used with white plates on which there is a smaller family crest on the back, and crested serviettes, is used on formal gatherings and parties to promote the Malfoy name. The third and most elaborate set, with many floral patterns and soft pink hues, is used at larger family events, like Christmas and birthdays._  
_Everyone that is considered a close friend, has their very own serviette ring. All rings have the Malfoy crest on it –in black and white, so that it doesn’t clash with the pink hues, nor with the green themes- but they also have a small unique detail. Scorp’s ring has a depiction of the mythical Titans, ‘Quila’s ring is decorated with the smallest eagle, Cassie has a compass, Phi the eye of a tiger, and Pansy and Blaise both have a serpent. Knowing papa, he has prepared a ring for you as well._

* * *

 

“Hiya Harry! Still doing all right?” Pansy asked, when she walked into Potter’s apartment without knocking.

Potter looked up from the essay he was marking, and smiled. “Hi Pans. I’m fine, thanks. How are you? Any particular reason you’re here?”  
“As a matter of fact, I was going to visit Draco, but he isn’t in yet. So, here I am. You must be thrilled.”  
“Of course. No Blaise this time?”  
“No, he had to work. Would you walk with me to Draco’s apartment, so we can wait together?”

Agreeing, Potter piled his essay in two somewhat neat stacks, before trudging towards the dungeons. There, Pansy brought out a key from her pockets and opened the door.

“Why did you need Malfoy if you already have a key?” Potter wondered.  
Pansy smiled. “Because I need company. That’s why I fetched you. How are you and Draco?” She seated herself on the sofa while Potter set about making tea.

“Very well, thanks,” Potter mumbled, preparing the mugs and tea bags.  
“You don’t seem ecstatic. What’s going on?”  
Potter smiled faintly. “Nothing. I’m tired, that’s all. It’s been four weeks.”  
“Four weeks of what?”  
“The third stage of our courtship.”  
“Four weeks isn’t that long. Most courtships take months, some even years. The third stage is supposed to last four times the time of the other two combined.”  
“I know, it’s just… The other two combined only lasted a week.”  
Pansy started laughing. “The two of you could never do things like normal people. You got approval within a week? Lucius _approved_ you, within a _week_?”  
“A day, actually.” Potter grinned and put the mugs of tea down. “I went up to the Manor and I may have demanded their approval. Mrs. Malfoy was agreeable enough –“  
“But Lucius looked like he could kill you? Don’t worry, that’s his normal face. Especially around you. So they approved?”  
“Mr. Malfoy may have threatened me, albeit not as explicitly. I went well, I think.”  
Pansy sipped her tea before continuing their conversation. “And your problem now is…?”  
“I get nothing in return. Like, we are having fun, and he agreed to this courtship-thing, and he agrees to every date I propose. He enjoys them, I think. But he never initiates anything, never as much as implies that he would like to do it again. I just don’t know whether he actually wants this.”

Frowning, Pansy looked around the room for any confirmation of Draco’s feelings towards Potter. She understood what he meant, and even though she knew the children had given Potter hints on how to deal with Draco, it wasn’t a surprise that Potter didn’t know how to read the tiny little signs of affection.

“Come with me,” she decided then. They went to the kitchenette, where Pansy pulled open every cupboard and drawer she could find, smiling satisfied. “I am going to tell you something about Draco what you probably don’t know, because no one really knows. Not even the children. Before I will tell you, you have to realise that Draco is the most idiotic, moronic and stupid person I have ever met. His brain works very differently from any sane person’s, and I love it. Now, look at the cupboards.”

Potter stared at the cupboards. They were regular cupboards, with regular kitchen appliances in them. There were stacks of plates and bowls and mugs and glasses, drawers full of neatly organised cutlery. The three types named in the book of the children were all there, even though Draco must have known he wouldn’t be eating anywhere but the Great Hall.

“Draco wants to be prepared for everything. That’s why he made sure to have all his plates and knives right here, instead of at home,” Pansy explained upon seeing Potter’s confused expression. “What strikes you as odd?”  
“Ehm… Do you mean the three different types? Because the children already told me that.”  
“No, I mean… Count them. The larger plates are for Draco, the smaller ones are for the children. How many smaller plates do you see?”  
“In total?”  
“Whatever you want.”  
Bewildered, but trusting Pansy, Potter quickly counted the amount of smaller plates. “There are seven of each type, so twenty-one in total.”  
“You must be a mathematical genius. Seven plates. Why would Draco own seven plates for children?”  
“To have extra?”  
“Merlin,” Pansy sighed. “He has three different types of plates. Do you really think he needs extra in case one breaks?”  
Potter shrugged, causing Pansy to throw her hands up in an exasperated gesture.

“All right, let’s try this again. How many larger plates do you see?”  
“Two per type.”  
“Correct. And why?”  
“Well, it’s not to have extra.”  
Punching Potter in the arm, Pansy picked up one of the plates and gave it to Potter for examination. “Harry. Darling. Do you, by any chance, know of one adult and three children that Draco would like to see as his family?”  
“Oh. _Oh!_ ”  
“Yes, ‘oh’. Idiot.”  
Potter grinned. “He has plates for us?”  
“And mugs. I assume Draco wouldn’t own Gryffindor mugs for himself.”  
“But why wouldn’t he just say something?”  
Sighing and turning back to the living room to sit on the sofa, Pansy shrugged. “I don’t know. He is socially incapable. Besides, if memory serves me right, I believe it is against the unwritten rules to assume one’s courter will become family. He wouldn’t have wanted to jinx it by telling you.”  
“Why plates? Why not just flowers or anything?”  
“What makes you feel more comfortable somewhere? Flowers, or the knowledge that they have set an extra plate for you?”

Potter sunk back into the cushions and thought about the first time he had ever came home to the Burrow, how the Weasleys had immediately made space for him in their family. He grinned. “I suppose this is good.”  
“Exactly. You should try to read between the lines more often, Harry.”

“Pansy? Who are you talking to? I thought Blaise couldn’t – Potter!” Draco smiled widely. “Hi. Is the tea still fresh?”  
“Fresh enough,” Pansy answered, when it seemed Potter had retreated in his sulky state.  
Draco quickly poured himself a cup and sat down next to Potter on the sofa. “How have you been, Pans? Anything interesting happened?”  
“Not much.” After a pause, she added, “What is that?”  
“What?”  
“That fluffy, white thing on your shoulder.”  
Draco chuckled. “Oh, that. This is Alistair.” He stretched out his hand so the ferret could climb on it, and showed it to Potter and Pansy. Potter started laughing immediately upon seeing it, throwing his head back and letting out loud barks.  
“Did you honestly get a ferret?”  
“No! No, Cassie brought it to me. She found it somewhere, and thought it had to be taken care of. I was forced to adopt him.”  
Pansy threw him a disbelieving look, while Potter petted the animal with a soft hand. “Well, I came to have a quick chat with you, but you came back later than I thought. I should head home already. Sorry.”  
“Really? Too bad. We’ll Firecall, yes? Should I walk you out?”  
“No no, don’t worry. I can find my way back. I’ve lived here for seven years, remember?”  
Pansy hugged Potter goodbye with a wink and kissed Draco twice on his cheeks. “See you, dear.”

When Draco returned to the living room, Potter was staring at his tea, with a pile of essays on the table next to him, ready to be marked.

_Chapter 6: A Few Important Pureblood Traditions  
Paragraph 3: Appropriate clothing per situation_  
_1\. Proper clothing is the key to success, because proper clothing makes people think you’re successful._  
_2\. Many events have their own dress code. Follow this code._  
_3\. There are high society families that hate or prefer certain colours. To get into their good graces, you should know which colours to avoid and which to focus on._

_Wedding and funeral dress code is quite simple. Weddings are always white (even if the dress code says something else) and funerals are black. Accents and decorative patterns may vary according to dress code. The dress code may specify on the style of the robes, but it will always allow some variation, since not everyone looks equally charming in a certain cut. You should know your precise sizes and the styles that work on you. Or make sure papa knows._  
_One tradition is that after a courtship has concluded, both parties wear robes/dresses in the same style and colour. This could set the tone for the rest of their public relationship, but that is only the case with very bold choices._

_We recommend you listen to papa’s instructions on styles and cuts, and after that, you can choose which ones you like. Or, if you already know what you like, talk to papa about it, so he knows what you wear._

* * *

 

“What kind of assignment is that?” Draco asked amiably, gesturing at the pile of essays Potter had brought from his own apartment.  
“This? Oh, some essays on Dark curses. Fifth year stuff. Not very interesting.”  
Draco nodded. “Is it all right if I change into some other clothes?”  
“Sure. Where will you keep Alistair, by the way?”  
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to read up on taking care of ferrets tomorrow.”

It didn’t take long for Draco to reappear from his bedroom, now clad in light green robes that matched very well with Potter’s dark green ones. Draco smiled at Potter while sitting down next to him, picking up his own essays to mark.

“I’m not even sure whether I’ll keep him.”  
“Why not?”  
“I’m not really an animal lover. I much prefer to look at them from a distance.”  
“Nonsense. No animal hater would carry a ferret around their neck. Besides, it’s still so young.”  
“That’s my dilemma exactly! It’s too young to change owner again, it would be animal abuse. Wouldn’t it?”  
Potter grinned. “No, it wouldn’t. But I know you want to keep him. He looks so much like you, when you were a ferret!”  
“That’s what I’m afraid of. People will start thinking I _liked_ being put in Vince’s trousers.”  
“Are you sure that that wasn’t your gay awakening?”  
“Please, Potter. If there is anyone that could trigger a gay awakening, it wouldn’t have been Vince.”  
“Oh no, because you were rather taken in by a certain redhead.”  
Draco scoffed. “ _You_ have been taken in by the entire redhead family.”  
“As if they wouldn’t take you in at the bat of an eye!”

They shared a smile before turning to their essays. They marked in silence for a while, until Draco noticed that Potter started sulking again. It caused Draco’s nerves to tingle, and he bopped his foot impatiently while reading and rereading the same sentence of this –quite horrific- essay.

“Why are you nervous?” Potter mumbled, a quill behind his ear and smudges of ink along his fingers. There was a crinkle between his eyes, and he was biting his lower lip in concentration. His eyes flicked along the lines, his hand made easy scratches with the quill whenever he had a comment on the wording. The lightning scar was almost invisible in the half-light.

Wordlessly, Draco accio’ed a larger candle and waved it on, so they had better light to read the essays. The little crinkle between Potter’s eyes disappeared, was replaced by a slight uptilt of the corners of his mouth. Potter scrunched his nose up twice before he sneezed, then shook his head almost imperceptibly, and went on marking. He had finished three entire essays when he looked up, right into Draco’s eyes.

“Do you want more tea?” Potter offered softly. He picked up the two mugs and went to the kitchenette to prepare fresh tea. While he was gone, Draco managed to finish one essay on the effect of stirring clockwise instead of anti-clockwise, but didn’t get much further.

They settled back into the silence of scratching quills, but it didn’t last as long as before.

“You’re staring” Potter said after a few minutes of working.  
Draco tore his eyes away from Potter’s hand and landed in his eyes. “Was I?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh. I suppose I’m tired. Sorry.”  
“Not a problem. You can stare as much as you like.”

There was another moment of silence, in which Potter put down his quill and leant back into the cushions, fiddling with his hair and looking everywhere but at Draco.

“I meant it, you know,” Potter started. His voice was slow, hesitant, as if he was about to do something he knew would hurt.  
Draco managed to suppress his flinch, but couldn’t help moving away just a centimetre. What could Potter have meant? Did he mean the courtship, but regretted it now? Did he mean the Serpensortia he sent Draco’s way during the duel? Or did he mean those hateful things they used to say to each other?

“Oh?”  
“Yes. I really did. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I wanted to be honest with you, but somehow, you’ve always made that difficult for me. You make me do things I later regret, Malfoy.”

Oh, Merlin. He was breaking off the courtship. Right when Draco had changed into his most expensive, best-looking, most-complimenting robes he owned, which coincidentally not-so-coincidentally matched perfectly with Potter’s robes. Right when Draco thought they would make it official. He was a fool. A massive fool. He had been tricked.

“I wanted to make this clear much earlier than now. I’m sorry for not telling you before.”

Draco nodded, spine straight and shoulders square, trying to mask the feeling of utter loss he felt. He knew he should have stayed with Astoria. Life had never treated him well. It had been foolish to think that this time, it would be different.

“You have great friends, Malfoy.”

_You have great friends, I’m sure they can help you through it,_ Draco’s mind supplied. To be quite frank, he hadn’t thought Potter would pull such a childish prank. Especially because he must have known Draco was in this for real. It wasn’t something Potter would do. Something wasn’t right here.

“And amazing children. I can’t wait to be their Dad.”

Wait.

What?

“I mean, if you still want that,” Potter added hastily. “I would love to, but…”

Hold on.

_What?_

“I thought that’s where we were going. Weren’t we?”

Stop the time.

**_What?_ **

“Malfoy?” Potter’s voice was thin now, and he had curled in on himself, occupying only the necessary space. “If you don’t want that, it’s fine. It’s only been four weeks. No worries. I stepped out of line.”

Draco could hit himself. He shouldn’t have gotten so anxious about Potter’s meanings. Of course he was too noble to play such a game with Draco. If Potter wouldn’t want to, he would be honest about it. Saint Potter.

“I’m sorry. I’m feeling rather tired, I think I’ll head to bed,” Potter announced with a choked voice. He was trying to stack all the essays quickly, but his hands shook and a few parchments fell to the ground.

“I had imagined that this would happen with a lot more romance,” Draco mumbled, shaking his head. Then, he leant sideward, wound a hand around Potter’s neck and pressed his lips to Potter’s.

There was no firework, no spark or instant hunger. There was no gasping, no racing heartbeat or sweaty palms. There was just a short peck, a sense of familiarity and ease. A kiss like all kisses, like the kiss of two old lovers, having been together for ages and knowing each other intimately.

When they pulled back, Potter broke out in a brilliant smile. “What exactly had you thought would happen with more romance?”  
“My first real kiss.”  
“ _That_ was your first real kiss?”  
“Yes?”  
“How impersonal was your relationship with Astoria?”  
Draco chuckled. “No, what I mean is… the first kiss I had with someone I truly, utterly and unfailingly care about. And the first kiss with a man, now we’re at it.”  
Potter kissed him again, short, soft and annoyingly sweet. “Well, we could try again.”  
“Oh, Potter. How cliché. I am ashamed.”  
“No, you aren’t,” Potter whispered against Draco’s lips, giving him three pecks. Draco had pulled his knee up on the sofa, and his hand had found its way to Potter’s thigh. Potter leant his head on Draco’s shoulder, until the smiles they shared turned into giggles.

“Potter, I truly hate you with every fibre of my being,” Draco announced, when the laughter had subsided. “You make me feel like a first year schoolgirl, having just been asked to the Valentine’s Ball by the Quidditch Captain.”  
“Funny. I was just going to say that you made me feel like a prince that just battled a dragon to rescue his princess.”  
“Why would you always battle dragons? Dragons are cool, they should be loved,” Draco complained.  
Potter leant in to kiss him again. “Hmm, couldn’t agree more.”  
“Idiot,” Draco spoke, pushing Potter away. “I still have a pile of essays to mark. You’re distracting me.”

Grumbling, Potter turned back to his essays as well, but now he was the one staring at Draco.

“Nice robes.”  
“Thanks.”  
“They match mine.”  
“Do they? I hadn’t noticed.”  
“Of course you hadn’t.”

“Hey, Malfoy.”  
“What.”  
“I like you.”  
“How awkward would it have been if you didn’t.”

“Malfoy, guess what.”  
“What.”  
“I have a present for you.”  
Draco’s head swirled around immediately, only to be met with a deep, lingering kiss that left a sparkle in his eyes and a rhythmic _thump-thump_ of Potter’s heart against his in his head. When they parted, Potter grinned wickedly, tracing Draco’s lip with his thumb, intensifying the tingle Draco only now noticed that was present.

Now, _that_ had been more like the kind of first kiss of classical novels.

“I have something for you too,” Draco said. When Potter leaned in to claim another kiss, he fled away to his bedroom, calling that he would be right back.

When he returned, he was carrying a large box, and he put it down carefully on top of Potter’s essays. The latter quickly undid the sticking charm and opened the box, revealing loads of bubble wrap plastic.

“I may have been too enthusiastic with this, just tell me if it’s too much,” Draco began nervously. “It’s odd, really, but I couldn’t help myself. Ehm, if you don’t like it, I’ll box it up and we can forget about it, obviously.”

Potter pulled out a large piece of parchment with a family crest on it. “What is it?”  
“I merged the Malfoy crest and the most recent Potter crest I could find. You see, it now says ‘Malfoy-Potter.’ I wanted to try ‘Potter-Malfoy’, but it turned out that the Malfoy name can only be legally merged, if it is the first name, so there it is. Ehm, the snake is curled around the lion’s cubs, protecting them.”

Below the parchment was an entire collection of plates, glasses, serviettes, cutlery and everything else necessary for a large dinner party. All of it had the Malfoy-Potter crest on it, in the middle, small and elegant.

“What do you think?”  
“Is this… official?”  
“Er, yes. Well, sort of. The Malfoy-Potter crest will be used for personal business, but everything concerning the Malfoy estates and businesses within and outside of the United Kingdom should still be handled with the Malfoy name.”  
“Malfoy… this is wonderful.”  
“You think so?”  
“Absolutely. Does this mean we will be Malfoy-Potter from now on?”  
“Only if you want to. As I said, I may have gone overboard. You don’t have to pretend to like it.”  
“What does your father think?”  
Draco chuckled awkwardly. “Well, he hates it. That is one reason why it can’t be linked to estate business. He is still the Malfoy Master. But I think he tolerates you.”  
“I tolerate him too.”  
“I’m glad.”  
“Say, Malfoy?”  
“Yes?”  
“ _Je t’aime_.”

Draco swallowed heavily and looked at the plates on Potter’s lap. “Would you kiss me again?”  
“Gladly,” Potter sighed and moved back in for a languid kiss. They broke apart, only to put away the plates and press even closer. When they parted, it was because the door flew open to let the seven children in.

“Right, Phi’s bedtime,” Draco mumbled. He stood up to herd Phi into the bedroom, but froze when he saw all seven children stare at the plates, and then at each other.

“What’s all this about?” their oldest said.  
“Papa?” “Dad?”  
“It seems like a fusion of the Malfoy and Potter crest to me," Aquila stated dryly.  
“Quite right. Does this mean what we think it means?” Lily inquired.

Draco and Potter didn’t get a chance to answer, because everyone started talking at once, giving Draco the opportunity to send Phi off to bed, give Cassie her good night hug, explained some insignificant detail of the workings of Patronuses to Aquila, and share a loaded look with Scorpius. Potter finished his own rituals quickly enough, and they were alone again.

“I should probably go. Try to get these essays done tonight,” he announced sadly, gesturing to the barely shrunken pile of parchment he still had to mark.  
Draco nodded. “Yes, me too. Ehm, I enjoyed our evening.”  
“I should hope so.”  
“I do want to ask you one thing.”  
“Of course.”  
“Could we… keep it low-profile for a while? The children may know of course, they already do, and our friends and family as well, but… nothing too flashy or obvious around students?”  
“Are you worried about that _Daily Prophet_ reporter?”  
“I just… don’t want the start of our relationship be sullied by such articles.”  
Potter nodded. “I agree. So it is a relationship, then?”  
“That’s what usually happens after a courtship and a kiss like that.”  
“A kiss like what?” Potter smirked.  
“Don’t make me say it, Potter.”  
“Say what?”

Draco groaned, pushing a hand through his hair, but straightened up and bravely answered, “A kiss that made me crave for more and long for eternity.”  
“You do know how to word things prettily, don’t you?” Potter murmured, kissing Draco again.  
“Any complaints?”  
“Not at all.”

Potter grinned, caught Draco in another kiss, then pecked his cheek and turned to leave. Draco leant against the doorpost, smiling like a loon and not caring in the slightest.

Life could be fun, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to scream at me? My [tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) is a good place for that!


	43. I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks from behind a wall* Hi...
> 
> I'm a tiny bit late. Last weekend (and next weekend) were swamped, and then my laptop broke down, so I couldn't finish it. However, here it is! And there will be a chapter this weekend as well, because I have to stay on schedule.
> 
> Will you forgive me? Will the content help you to forgive me?
> 
> Bye...
> 
> *hides behind the wall again*

_Chapter 5: Must Knows  
Paragraph 4:_ _Music_  
_1\. There isn’t much papa loves more than music (except for chocolate, and ice cream, and a good book, and hot chocolate, and his family, and animals, and …)_  
 _2\. Music is everything to papa._  
 _3\. MUSIC IS EVERYTHING TO PAPA_.

_You may have noticed that music is everything to papa. Oh, you didn’t know? You should open your eyes.  
Anyway, papa is very musical. He loves singing and playing instruments and listening to music. It doesn’t even have to be good music for him to enjoy it. Aquila suspects it’s because papa is afraid of the silence, and frankly, none of us can disagree with that. There isn’t a moment that everything is silent around him, because he constantly taps his pencil against the desk or hums a tune. His head is full of music. He plays a couple instruments, including but not limited to piano, violin, cello, and some woodwinds. He is also teaching himself how to play the guitar, because Cassie really loves that, and papa would do anything to please us._

_But, and that is the most important thing, papa sings. A lot. He loves it and he is good at it. In fact, he has a song for every situation. There are a couple songs he sings especially for Pansy, Blaise and Greg, or in difficult times. And he has a song dedicated to every single one of us, the children. These songs are extremely accurate; the lyrics are spot-on reminders that we need. For example, Scorpius needs the reminder of importance of family. Aquila needs to remember that she is loved, no matter what. Cassie needs the determination ‘her’ song represents. Phi’s song is a note saying that papa is always with us. You’ll see when you hear them._

_If you get close enough to papa, he will dedicate a song to you too. It’s a guarantee._

* * *

 

There was a knock on Draco’s office door, followed immediately after a soft whistle to pull Draco’s attention.

“Hi,” Draco smiled, looking up at Potter, who had perched himself on the corner of Draco’s desk. “What are you here for?”  
Potter shrugged, bent forward and pressed a soft kiss on Draco’s forehead. “I wanted to see you.”  
“You see me now.”  
“I do. Is it all right that I came to visit you? Not too busy?”  
“No, no, you’re always welcome. Of course you are. In fact, I had a little something for you.” Draco stood up to shuffle around in one of the closets. When he turned back around, he was holding a small package, which he thrust forward in Potter’s hands. “I thought you might appreciate this. It’s nonsense of course, but it reminded me of you.”  
“Are you calling me nonsense?”  
“Obviously. Do you mind if I keep working for a bit?”  
“Not at all. Do you mind if I stay here, watching you work?”  
Draco laughed, a kind of laugh Potter hadn’t seen from him before. It was more relaxed, way more comfortable. “Make yourself comfortable, Pothead.”

Potter nestled himself in one of the black chairs next to the desk, fiddling with his present. “So what is it?”  
“Open it and you’ll find out.”

Biting his lip, Potter slowly unravelled the ties holding it together. When the present was uncovered, he chuckled. Inside was a pair of woollen mittens, quite clearly hand-knitted. They were Gryffindor red with green accents, the Gryffindor emblem and Potter’s Quidditch number from their time at Hogwarts.

“Did you make these?”  
“No, I bribed a first year to do it.”

Potter tugged the mittens on, feeling how soft they were, but also noticing the tiny mistakes made here and there. “After you knitted the Weasley sweater for Molly, you decided that it was a fun waste of time?”  
“Exactly. Can you let me work?”  
“Sure, yeah.” Potter kept silent for a moment, before asking what Draco was working on.  
Draco sighed and put his quill down, resigning to no more work. “Research, actually. Writing up a report.”  
“Oh, about those potions you made? With Neville’s plants? How far are you with that?”  
“Theresa and I are finishing up, to be honest. We’re doing some test-runs, and I am collecting all the results to make it into a proper research report.”  
“Cool. Anything noteworthy about it?”  
“Well, with these plants, there is a significant decrease of harmful, addictive and illegal potions. It would help in the Healing sector, for example.”  
“But you said that some people might be against it, some months back. Why?”  
“Why they would be against it? Most of all, because they don’t trust me. Apart from that, they find it unethical to adapt plants like that, or they worry about the kind of potions that would become available. It’s uneducated talk, of course, but that’s the way it is.”

Potter pulled a piece of parchment towards himself and started reading it. “What’s this about? This doesn’t sound like a research report,” he noted.  
“No, it isn’t,” Draco admitted, taking the parchment back. “That’s a side research of mine. What you just read is about making a Wolfsbane-kind of potion that would be more readily accessible. It would also allow more control during the shifts and less ill feeling afterwards.”  
“You could make something like that?”  
Draco nodded, retrieving a small vial from a locked cupboard. “I already did.”  
“How do you know it works?”  
“Because I had it tested.”

Gaping like a fish, Potter kept silent for a couple seconds, making Draco shift uncomfortably in his chair.

“How?”

Draco shifted again. “I know someone with lycanthropy. “  
“Seriously? Who is it? Do I know them?” Potter leant forward, placing both hands on Draco’s desk.  
“They’re… Well, I noticed that my Wolfsbane went missing. I always have a batch in my cupboard. You see, it’s quite common among potioneers to have Wolfsbane readily available. But my batch went missing. On… regular intervals. So one day, instead of a couple vials of Wolfsbane, I put down a note, saying that I would give them their potion, but that I would like to know who it was. And when I started experimenting with Neville’s plants, I gave it to them.”  
“Isn’t that dangerous?”  
“I had done all possible tests and some more. If there would have been something wrong with the potion, I would have known immediately. There is a reason I am the best potioneer in Wizarding Britain.”  
Potter smiled. “So how is it different from regular Wolfsbane?”  
“As I said, with this kind, one’ll have more control during the full moon. Regular Wolfsbane will prevent one from preying after humans, but one’ll still need to hunt. My Wolfsbane inhibits the urge to hunt, and allows one to whine somewhere safe, without needing to shed blood.”  
“How did they become a werewolf? I mean, it doesn’t happen just like that, does it?”  
“No. Their… One of their parents was bit by Fenrir Greyback during the war. A couple years older than we are, actually. And my… client inherited it.”  
“Oh wow. What House were they in?”  
“Their father was a muggle-born Ravenclaw, married to a Muggle woman he had known all his life. The Muggle woman had a sister who went to Hogwarts. My client is a Ravenclaw too.”  
“Cool. Though, why do you keep that vial in your drawer? All your other potions are in the cupboards.”

Draco opened the drawer again and picked up another vial, showing the pearly liquid of Amortentia to Potter.

“The drawer is locked. My regular potions are in the regular cupboards, but I keep a vial every potion with Neville’s ingredients here. These are the test-runs, vials that can be tested if I ever publish this research. And if anyone tries to sabotage me by adding an ingredient, the vial will blow up. I charmed them.”  
Potter took the vial to turn it around and watch the liquid swirl. “Clever.”

He leant back, playing a bit with his mittens, before standing up in a rush and crushing Draco in a hug.

“What’s all this?” Draco murmured, hugging back without thought and pressing his nose in Potter’s neck.  
“I just really like you, Malfoy.”  
“I should hope so.”  
“You keep saying that. Are you really not sure yet?”  
“I’m sure enough.”  
Potter pulled back with squinted eyes. “I don’t like that phrase. What can I do to convince you?”  
“Be yourself.”  
“Apart from that.”

Draco seemed to think about that for a second, before he closed the drawer and locked it tight, grabbing Potter’s hand and pulling him out of the office. In the hallways, he released Potter’s hand, but the smiles he kept shooting Potter were enough. They twisted through the dungeons, into hallways Potter wasn’t even sure were known on the Marauder’s Map, and ended in front of a heavy brass door.

“Where are we?”  
“The Room of the Right Notes,” Draco announced grandly, throwing the door open with a flourish. “More commonly known as Merlin’s Office.”  
Potter grinned, watching the room unfold –quite literally- and all kinds of musical instruments become tangible.

“A few hundred years back, Hogwarts was much bigger. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang didn’t exist yet, except as private schools with only thirty to fifty students. Hogwarts was the biggest Wizarding school in Europe, and even many Asiatic and African students came here. Every House had not only a Head of House, but also a deputy Head, a secretary and a small board. This room used to be the meeting room for the entire leading fraction of the House. The only meeting room that is still present in Hogwarts nowadays, is the Slytherin one.”  
“Why is that?”  
“Because above all, Slytherins value tradition and history. In the time of my father, this room was converted into a music room. We call it Merlin’s Office, because it used to be an office, and Merlin may have been a Slytherin.”  
“Why are we here then?”  
“Because I really, _really_ want to play an instrument,” Draco smiled. He walked up to the large piano forte in the middle of the room, stroking cellos, harps and the pipes of an organ on his way. “Do you play?” he asked when perching on the seat and revealing the keys.

Potter shook his head, drifting closer to watch Draco’s fingers move silently, as if he was already playing a song in his mind.

“I can teach you, if you want.”  
“I’m not sure I would be any good.”  
Draco chuckled. “No one is good. Come on, sit with me.”  
When Potter sat down, Draco wrapped an arm around him and started playing the intro to a song one-handedly. Potter sank into his warmth. “I love this song.”  
“I know.”  
“It also plays in _Notting Hill_ , do you know it?”  
Draco nodded. “Of course I do.” He frowned when he made a small mistake, but kept going anyway. When the intro was finished and Potter was listening with closed eyes, Draco started singing as well.

“ _It’s amazing how you_  
Can speak right to my heart  
Without saying a word  
You can light up the dark

_Try as I may, I could never explain  
What I hear when you don’t say a thing.”_

Potter’s smile grew into a full-blown grin and he pushed himself just that bit closer to Draco.

“ _The smile on your face_  
Lets me know that you need me  
There’s a truth in your eyes  
Saying you’ll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you’ll catch me wherever I fall”

They stayed in that room for a couple hours, missing dinner. They only went up when Draco’s fingers went numb and his voice hoarse, and their children would need to go to bed.

_Chapter 6: A Few Important Pureblood Traditions  
Paragraph 1: __Wooing, Marriage & Public Displays of Affection_  
_Subparagraph b: Marriage_  
 _1\. Marriage, according to pureblood rules, is between Witch and Wizard. However, you may be able to find a way around it._  
 _2\. Marriage is required when a man and a woman want to live together. But, since you are both male, if you do not want to marry, but still live together, you will probably be able to arrange it._  
 _3\. Don’t worry if you don’t want to get married. None of us will look at you in a different light._

_Marriage is a difficult thing. It’s a lifelong commitment – in the ideal world – between two people that love each other and wish to have a family together. Purebloods are oddities in this regard, since there is very little love and a lot of political or social gain through marriages. Yet, purebloods have rules stating that there should be love involved. The vow of pureblood marriages is solely based on love and commitment, with no mention of politics.  
If you and papa would decide to ever get married, you will encounter many problems. You will encounter problems just with your relationship, but marriage is an even tougher nail. But the four of us have all the faith in the world that you and papa will be able to find your way around it, either because of papa’s cunningness, or your name. All the rules are easily ‘misinterpreted’, and thus, bent to one’s own will. It just never happens because no pureblood ever has the guts to do so. Papa does, though. Especially for you. But don’t tell him we said that._

_Drawbacks and benefits  
__\- You will get a lot of disapproval, either from Grandfather, or other pureblood families._  
_\- You will have to dive into the most complicated and boring laws to find a maze._  
 _\+ You will manage to get your way, if you really want to._  
 _\+ You will never have to worry about papa’s commitment, with or without marriage._

* * *

 

That evening, Potter and Draco were sat on Potter’s sofa, with their paperwork in front of them and a cup of tea in their hands. Draco was behind on his planning and he was desperately trying not to get distracted, but there was a delicious smell wafting his way from the kitchenette.

“Potter, please tell me what that smell is,” he demanded.  
Potter just laughed, causing Draco to grumble and turn back to his research. A couple minutes later, Potter stood up and rummaged in the kitchen, with resulted in a heavy chocolate smell to float towards Draco. When Potter returned, he smelled like chocolate too.

“Potter…” Draco groaned irritably, but Potter still didn’t respond. Draco therefore decided to bring out the big guns. He put down his tea and his quill, and stared at Potter for a while, until the latter looked up. Then, Draco smiled widely and leant in to give Potter a teasing kiss, pulling back just as Potter tried to deepen it.

“Malfoy, give me a proper kiss.”

Draco smiled again, but didn’t oblige. Rather, he fiddled a bit with the collar of Potter’s robes and rested his head on Potter’s shoulder.

“Everything all right, Malfoy?”

Humming against Potter’s neck, Draco pulled Potter closer, while also wrapping his free hand around Potter’s waist.

“Are you just cuddly, or is something wrong?”  
“I’m a bit sad-ish.”  
“You’re a radish?”  
Draco chuckled. “No,” he whined softly. “I’m sad. I want chocolate.”  
“Of course,” Potter laughed. “I should have guessed.”  
“Potter.”  
“What is it?”  
“Chocolate.”  
“I don’t indulge whining children.”  
“I’m not a child. I’m forty years old.”  
“Then act like it.”

Draco frowned, pulling away from Potter’s neck. He got a determined look in his eyes and a wicked smile around his lips. Potter couldn’t do much to stop Draco from kissing him deeply, tilting his head for leverage and cupping Potter’s cheek sweetly.

When he pulled back, Draco rested their foreheads together, smirking. “Is that adult enough for you?”  
“Merlin. Okay, fine. I’ll get you your chocolate.” Potter ran towards the kitchenette and returned with a bowl full of molten chocolate. “It’s pure,” Potter warned when Draco eagerly stuck his finger in.  
“Excuse me?”  
“It’s pure chocolate. But I added sugar to it, so it isn’t bitter. The smell of pure chocolate is just richer, so I thought it might attract you more.”  
“Are you kidding me? You picked pure chocolate over anything else? Am I supposed to eat this?”  
“Just try it.”  
“I don’t want to.”  
“It will be good. I promise. Just think of George, and you’ll love it.”  
Draco scowled. “ _Pure_ chocolate, Potter?”  
“Close your eyes,” Potter instructed. “Trust me.”

Draco mumbled something, but closed his eyes anyway. He opened his mouth when Potter asked him to, and closed it around the cool metal of a small spoon. His frown disappeared as soon as he tasted it, the chocolate not as bitter as he had expected. Potter was looking at him expectantly.

“It’s not… bad,” Draco admitted, sneaking a second spoonful.  
“No? It’s good, huh?”  
“I didn’t say that. It just isn’t as awfully bitter as pure chocolate usually is.”  
“I put in some sugar while it was melting.”  
“Good call. Why do you always melt chocolate before giving it to me? You could just buy me a bar, and I would be just as satisfied.”  
Potter chuckled. “I don’t know. You seem to like it though, more than a regular bar. Why do you like molten chocolate better than a bar?”  
“I don’t. Not necessarily,” Draco grinned, handing Potter the spoon, so he could enjoy the chocolate as well. “I just like it better if I am to share.”  
“Since when are you capable of sharing chocolate? I seem to remember the twin’s birthday where you made a cake with one tier for yourself alone.”

Laughing softly, Draco put his feet up on the coffee table to drink his tea, while Potter went to the kitchen for something. The latter returned with a bar of white chocolate, which he handed to Draco with a kiss.

“So, that side research of yours. Apart from Wolfsbane, what are you researching?”  
Draco took a happy bite of the chocolate. “I am mostly trying to find out reasons why it would be a bad idea to publish the research. For example, if potions without enhancers could realise an antidote for Veritaserum, it would be terribly dangerous to publish it. If that is the case, I have to warn the Ministry, cease all experiments and let myself be Obliviated, including everyone that knows about it.”  
“Who knows about it? I mean, you and Neville, obviously. And Theresa. So what would you do with her?”  
“Theresa knows next to nothing. She knows that the ingredients are magically adapted, but she has no idea how or to what extent. Neville and I know, and you have some kind of knowledge. Though I’m not sure you know enough to get Obliviated. Besides, you’re the Saviour.”  
“Don’t you think Cassie knows?”  
“Probably. But since no one can prove anything about that, I will keep my mouth shut. Neville will too. We’ll pretend that Cassie knows nothing.”  
“Oh! I almost forgot to ask. How are Aquila and Matias doing?”  
Groaning, Draco took another bite of his chocolate and handed Potter his mug to be refilled. “They are the epitome of disgusting, sappy couples that are impossible to hate because their love is so _real_. I hate it.”  
“I saw them talking last week. They are so… mature about their relationship. Like they expect for it to last a lifetime.”  
“I think they do. And I think they will. How about James and Suzanne?”  
“Pretty good. They are serious too, but since they’re older, it seems more difficult. But James is hung up on the whole ‘Suzanne means lily’ thing. He doesn’t know what to do with that. He loves the fact that it would be James and Lily again, but he’s terrified of the omen it could hold,” Potter frowned.  
“Right. They will make it through if it’s supposed to be, though.”  
“Absolutely. I heard you knew something about Albus’s love life?”

Snapping his head up, mug of tea resting against his lips, mid-sip, Draco frantically searched Potter’s face for any hint of more knowledge than he was letting on. When he noticed that Potter was truly just curious, he relaxed and finished his sip.

“I may know a bit,” Draco then admitted. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but was physically withheld, making him gape like a fish. “Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t say more than this. I wish I could, but I can’t.”  
“So you shan’t. Understood. Some kind of spell?”  
“Exactly. It’s a Slytherin thing. But I know a bit and it’s going all right.”  
Potter nodded then and asked a bit more about Draco’s research. While Draco was talking, Potter broke the white chocolate in a few pieces and drizzled the molten pure chocolate over it, then handed one bowl to Draco. He took it absent-mindedly, still rambling on about the technicalities of his research, when he popped one piece in his mouth and immediately let his head fall backward.

“Merlin, Potter, this is _so good_! This is the best chocolate I have ever eaten.”  
“You say that every time I give you something.”  
“But… have you _tasted_ this? This is pure heaven, Potter.”  
“Aren’t you exaggerating now?”  
“ _Heaven_ , I tell you!”  
“Malfoy –“  
“Salazar and Godric both, how can anything this perfect be legal? How did you know to combine those two?”  
“I just threw them together, to make sure we finished them both. Thought it wouldn’t be too bad.”  
“It isn’t bad at all. Your brain is a miracle, Potter. A true miracle.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yes! I love the way your brain works. I love _you_ , Potter, Merlin, this is good.”

While Potter was shocked into silence, Draco kept popping chocolate into his mouth, until he noticed Potter’s sudden silence.

“What is it?”  
“Do… Did you realise what you just said?”  
Draco seemed confused for a second, before a wicked smirk slid over his face. “Well, I said a lot of things, didn’t I?” He put the bowl down next to him and folded his hands. Potter recognised it as the movement he used to mask his nerves.  
“You did. But you also know what I mean. Do you mean that?”  
“What precisely?”  
“Don’t be a menace. Just answer me.”  
The smirk turned soft, Draco cuddled close. “I most certainly did. Do.”  
“Good. Because I do too.”  
“I know, Potter. You don’t have to convince me.”

Potter began to laugh. “Can I just say how stupid you are for saying that for the first time while eating chocolate? I’m almost starting to hate you.”  
“I have a hard time believing that. And there is nothing wrong with saying ‘I love you’ while eating chocolate.”  
“I suppose not.”

They were silent together, enjoying their chocolate and tea, but it was interrupted by a knock.

“Papa, are you in there?” Phi’s voice sounded urgent. Draco raised his eyebrows at Potter and stood up to open the door. Phi barged in, waved at Potter and snatched a piece of chocolate, but grimaced at the taste.

“You and your white chocolate. Gross. But I wanted to ask you something. About me being an Animagus. Am I going to be registered?”  
With a sigh, Draco sat down. “No. And before you say anything, _no_. It isn’t wise. You aren’t even in Hogwarts yet, the Ministry would be terrified. We can’t risk it.”  
“Why would they be terrified? What could they do?”  
“As I said, you aren’t even a Hogwarts student. It’s rare enough that anyone manages to become an Animagus while still _in_ Hogwarts, but _before_? It would be reason enough for the Ministry to think there was something dark about you. You might be thrown in Azkaban for it.”  
“Because I’m too young?”  
“Exactly. They would fear your magic –“  
“And with us being Malfoys, they don’t trust us. So they would try to reign us in,” Phi supplied. “Why can’t they just get over it? You have done everything you can to clear your name, and none of us have ever done something wrong. Our name shouldn’t be a source of mistrust anymore. It’s prejudice, all of it!”

Potter frowned at the both of them, putting down a mug of tea for Phi as well. “What is your Animagus actually?” he asked Ophiuchus.  
Phi just waved as if to say ‘later’, and climbed on Draco’s lap. “No one is supposed to know, I guess? To make sure I’m not ratted out?”  
“No one.”  
“But the twins and Cassie already do.”  
“That doesn’t matter. But I have to ask you to keep it a secret from James, Albus and Lily as well. And the Weasleys. They might blurt it out one day on accident.”  
Nodding, Phi curled into Draco’s chest a bit more, letting out an unconscious purr when Draco thread his fingers through the black hair. Draco held him closer, completely forgetting Potter’s presence.

“When you’re older, we can register you and you can tell everyone. As a third year or so, it will be less terrifying to the Ministry.”  
“Why?”  
“Because everyone with the least bit of sense can understand that Metamorphmagi don’t have as much difficulty with becoming Animagi as normal wizards do. They already have lots of control over their appearances and their magic. Why should it be different in their Animagus form?” Draco reasoned. “You’ll still be young, but it would be less strange.”  
“I have to keep it silent for three more years?”  
“If you can.”  
Potter cleared his throat. “I’ll just pretend I don’t know what you are talking about, shall I? Shouldn’t you go to bed, Phi?”

While Phi glared and Draco glanced at the clock, Potter started to clean up the mugs and chocolate bowls.

“Yes, it’s very much time for bed, Ophiuchus. Cheeky of you, to come worry me when you know you should go to sleep.”  
“But papa –“  
“Nope. Off to bed. Come on, I’ll say goodbye to Potter and then I’ll follow you.”  
Phi grinned widely. “Ooh, saying goodbye to _Potter_. I don’t think I want to see that,” he smirked, making kissy noises.

Feeling his cheeks heat, Draco sent Phi out of the room and glared at Potter, who was laughing loudly at Phi’s pronunciation of his name. After giving Potter a hug, Phi were to wait in the hallway. Draco watched the door close before turning back to Potter.

“Well. Goodnight, then, I guess.”  
“Goodnight. Will you sleep well?”  
Draco smiled at the ground. “I think I will. Well enough, at least.”  
“And if you don’t, just think of me, yeah?”  
“I’m not sure that will encourage better _sleeping_.”  
Potter laughed, hugging Draco softly and tucking his nose in Draco’s neck. “I’ll be thinking of you.”  
“Of course you will. I’m fabulous.”  
“Sure. Night, Malfoy.”  
“Goodnight. I love you.” Draco pecked on his cheek before moving away. Phi was waiting on the other side of the door with a fond smile that grew into a fond grin.  
“Nighty-night, Harry!” Phi called when he walked to the dungeons with Draco.

He didn’t stop teasing his papa before Draco waved the lights off and demonstratively turned on his side.

_ Closing notes  
_ _Dear Harry,_

_By this time, you will probably have conquered papa’s heart and mind. Congratulations! You will also probably have refrained from making some huge mistake, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. We’re sure of that._

_You may not know, but it means the world to us that papa now has a chance of being happy. We don’t think there is anyone else in the entire world that could make him happy like you do. You balance him perfectly, and counter him even better. We know that you will be able to drag him up, out of the dark corners he sometimes hides in. Literally and figuratively. But you can also drag him down of his pedestal when he gets too high-handed. Lastly, you match him in stubbornness, determination and strength. If you didn’t, he would walk all over you, or worse, let Grandfather walk all over you._

_We are quite sure that you are not one of the people Grandfather can control._

_By this point, not only papa will love you, but we will too. We already did, otherwise we wouldn’t have helped you. We have high standards, you know. It may sound stupid, but we love and trust you. So now, on to the formal part._

_As of this date, you, Mr. Harry Potter, are in a serious relationship with Mr. Draco Malfoy. With this, you will not only have ‘adopted’ his well-being, but also his children. Four of them, to be clear. You will have to take care of us too, you know. Do you accept this?_

_Marriage is not necessary to any of us, not even to papa. It is merely something you could do if you really wanted to. However, papa needs stability and be assured of one’s loyalty. If you cannot be sure that you will try to stay with him forever, you should leave now. Right now. Can you ensure us that you intend to stay with him?_

_We do not want to mention this, but we must. One day, papa will die. If you happen to die before him, would you trust papa with James, Albus and Lily? Would you trust him to take care of them, either as guardian or some kind of uncle?  
The question should be asked the other way around as well. If papa dies before you, can we trust that you would take care of us? Would you be or guardian or some kind of uncle?_

_If you can say yes to all these questions, we are very happy. If you can affirm these questions, we will, from this moment on, call you ‘Dad.’_

_And you don’t really have a say in this._

_Bye, Dad. Please stay and thanks for reading this book. We love you!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. I've got Tumblr but I'm too lazy to put it in here. Other chapters have a link though. It's a good place to scream.


	44. Aurors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late again, I know. But this time I warned you, so I can't be blamed. Bit of a hectic weekend, but mostly fun stuff. Only fun stuff, to be honest.  
> Anyways! Here is your new chapter, featuring fluff and angst.
> 
> The angsty times I mentioned a few times before, are starting now. Just to recap: there will be no character deaths, because I can't do that to my own poor heart.
> 
> And I know some of you, lovely readers, are having a bit of a difficult time in life right now, so I just really want to say: I love you, if I could marry you, I would, because you are amazing and I wouldn't be writing the forty-fourth chapter right now without you. And I would like to say more, but I don't know you personally, so I don't know how well it would be received. But okay.

Draco climbed out of bed at two in the morning. He scribbled some words on a note and creeped towards the Slytherin common room. Above the fireplace, he cast the strongest and most complicated sticking charm he knew, to make sure the note would remain there. He cast another spell, which would make it invisible until Draco spoke the countercharm. He grinned at his own work. It was time.

At breakfast, it seemed like James and Suzanne had decided to make their relationship public. They cuddled together and shared some bread, being the most nauseatingly cute couple Draco knew personally. Luckily, Lily took it on herself to tease James relentlessly.

“What are you smiling at?” Potter asked when he sat down next to Draco.  
“James and Suzanne. They’re revolting, aren’t they?”  
“Absolutely. Mostly because I don’t get to do that.”  
Draco turned his gaze to Potter, relaxing when he saw that Potter was wearing a playful smirk. “You can, just not right here. Don’t you think it’s somewhat impolite to drool all over one another at the breakfast table?”  
“Well, they seem to be caught up in their own world, so I think they aren’t thinking about politeness.”  
“And that’s where we differ. I could never forget politeness.”  
“You seemed to be rather good at it, back at Hogwarts.”  
Glaring, while Potter laughed, Draco let himself be dragged into a conversation with the flying instructor. When it was time for class, Draco and Potter walked out together, which allowed them to have a brief goodbye-kiss without anyone seeing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, settle down. Today, we will be talking about potions that can counter spells. First, can someone tell me about counterpotions in general?”

The fifth years all stared at their desks, with the exception of James. He openly grinned at Draco and shrugged. Draco sighed.

“I know for a fact that Suzanne knows the answer to this question. You came to me to discuss this last week, remember? Care to explain?” he asked the Gryffindor next to James, who couldn’t stop smiling, while staring at his girlfriend.  
Suzanne pushed James away laughingly before focussing on Draco. “Well, some Healing potions are a form of counterpotions. They can counter a charm, potion or spell. However, counterpotions aren’t always as successful as the proper countercharm, but they are easier to invent. And there is a lesser chance of mucking up.”  
“Very good. Any other examples of counterpotions?”  
“Ehm, isn’t there a potion to counter Dreamless Sleep?”

Draco nodded, using his quill to note the most common counterpotions on the board.

“Counterpotions can undo the effects of a charm, spell or potion, like Suzanne already said. As you may understand, a potion is easy to counter, because you just combine ingredients that neutralise the ingredients of the first potion. However, spells can be countered too by a potion. It’s a difficult process to invent a counterpotion, but it’s easier than inventing a counterspell.”

He handed out pieces of parchment with precise instructions for making the potion they would be working on the next lesson.

“Next lesson, you will be brewing a counterpotion. Counterpotions are difficult to brew, even if you already have instructions, which is why it is fifth year material. Don’t underestimate them: they may seem easy, but will have disastrous effects if done wrong.

“Before you brew the potions, I want you to write a three foot essay on a counterpotion of your own choosing. If you do not hand in this essay, you will not be allowed to brew the potion. If you do not brew the potion, you cannot make this year’s NEWTS, and you will lose five House points. I’d say that is enough reason to write this essay. And you know I don’t accept mediocrity. Now, the rest of this lesson, you have time to work on your essay. Don’t hesitate to ask questions or be critical.”

There was a momentary bout of noise when everyone grabbed their books and parchment, but soon, it was quiet again. Draco pulled his own research out of his desk and worked on that while there were no problems.

“Hi, prof,” Theresa smiled at him.  
Draco folded his parchments closed to give her his full attention. “Yes?”  
“I was wondering… to what should one pay attention to when inventing a counterpotion?”  
“Are you asking for your own interest, or for the healing of Slytherins?”  
“Does it matter?”  
“Yes. If it is for the healing of Slytherins, I would still help you, but it would mean that Slytherins were still bullied. And frankly, I would like to know if that was going on.”  
Theresa chuckled. “No, I have the idea that the bullying has stopped. At least the way Terence and Priscus did it. It’s mostly for myself.”

Draco hummed, sweeping his eyes over the bent heads of working students. When he met James’s gaze, who was listening intently to their conversation, he invited him to join their discussion with a jerk of his head. James quickly stood up and placed himself next to Theresa.

“Counterpotions are interesting to invent, but you’ll need a very detailed knowledge of all possible ingredients and their effects. I assume you were wondering how it worked for spells or charms, not for potions?”  
“Yeah.”  
“All right. Spells and charms have an effect on the body, yes? This effect should be countered. What you do, is calculate which parts of the spell have which effect. Every word, every intonation, every wand-movement has its influence on the result of the spell. _Expecto Patronum_ and _Ridikkulus_ are dependent on the intention and intonation of the utterance. Wand-movement is only necessary when casting with a wand. If it’s a wandless spell, it doesn’t apply. Naturally.

“And, because every aspect of a spell has a separate effect on the subject, all those aspects can be countered with a potion. The trick is to invent a potion that counters all effects, without any nasty side-effects or unwanted results. It takes a lot of research, knowledge and dedication. You’ll need great capability in potions, spells, wandlore and Arithmancy. All in all, not many can invent one.”

Theresa nodded, James looked pensive. “But isn’t it the same kind of organised thinking as with inventing a new potion?” he asked.  
“Yes, it is, only more difficult. Earlier this year, you invented your own potion, right? And it was a healing potion, albeit a simple one. It was to prevent scarring of smaller wounds. It worked. But I think it only works on naturally caused wounds, not on spell damage. That’s the annoying part of counterpotions: even if you can invent your own working potion, it doesn’t guarantee that you can invent a counterpotion.”  
“Have you ever invented a counterpotion?” Theresa wondered.  
Draco laughed softly. “I tried, a couple of times. However, I’m not capable of starting at the beginning, and I immediately tried to invent something that could make one immune for a very complex spell. When it didn’t work, I gave up.”  
“Which spell?”  
“Not interesting. If you want, I could assign the two of you a spell that you should counter with a potion. We could make it into a game of sorts. Whoever of you has a working counterpotion first, will… get something. I’ll think about the prize. It would be good practice for both of you.”

Theresa and James shared a look before decisively nodding. Draco smiled. He gave them the _Reducto_ spell to counter, and warned them that there was barely any information to be found on the spell in the Hogwarts library.

When the lesson was over, both fifth years disappeared with matching determined expressions.

The rest of the day passed without any exciting news, until Draco mumbled the countercharm to the invisibility charm he put on the note that morning. He was sat in the Great Hall as supervisor to the students that had chosen to work there, quiet conversations a soothing disturbance.

It only took ten minutes before a Slytherin stormed into the Great Hall, enthusiastically whispering to every Slytherin present. A seventh year called Draco as well, so they moved in an organised group towards the Slytherin common room.

There, Scorpius was holding a note, with a bright smile on his face and an arm around Albus’s shoulders.

“Is everyone present? Good. Listen up! Just now, a new note appeared about our Slytherin House Ship. And it’s not a random update, like we are used to. In fact, there is a name. Unfortunately, it’s not a name I recognise…” Scorpius trailed off, disappointedly.

Albus took the note from him and tried to stuff it in his back pocket, but Draco nicked it from his fingers and read it over himself. “It seems like _someone_ has something to tell us,” Draco announced to the entire Slytherin student body. “Albus?”

Scorpius turned around to look at Draco, then at Albus, and back again at Draco, with a deep frown on his face. Albus avoided Scorp’s eyes, while Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wait, what is going on?” Scorpius muttered.  
Draco began to grin. “Albus, why don’t you tell us _exactly_ what is going on here? I can’t believe _your_ _best friend_ doesn’t even know.”  
“Yeah? Well, I can’t believe _your son_ doesn’t even know. You had to have had some help!”  
“Help? With what?” Draco asked innocently. From the stairs to the girl’s dorms, a loud scoff sounded.

“Papa, please. You aren’t as good at acting as you like to think,” Cassie said in a bored tone. She grabbed the note from Draco and read it over, after which she turned a questioning gaze on Albus. “Does Scorpius seriously not know? Even I did!”  
“Even your dad knew about it, Albus. And he is as oblivious as they get,” Draco added.

Scorpius took the note back from Cassie and read it again. “Are you saying that Ms. Shezallian is a girl you fancy?”  
“Isn’t Shezallian that Gryffindor?” Jackie asked. “Manila, right?”  
“Oh! Manila! I know _that_ name!” Scorpius cried out with glee. “Albie, you could have told me. Gryffindors aren’t that bad.”  
Albus was slowly turning bright red, and hid his face in the crook of Scorpius’s neck, resulting in a feral grin from Cassie. “Look how cute. Albus has got it bad. He’s blushing!” she crooned. Draco saw a smile breaking on Albus’s face, and patted his shoulder. This got Scorpius’s attention back on his papa.

“Hold on. You knew about all of this?” he asked Draco, holding Albus tight in a protective embrace. “You _knew_ the SHS was about Albus? Why didn’t you tell me?”  
A laugh burst from Albus. “Scorp, honestly? You must be smarter than this.”  
“What?”  
Phi, who had been trying to read in one of the corners, put his book down and shook his head. “Scorpius. Brother. Idiot. Papa is the one who put up all those notes.”  
“What?”  
“Who else could have done that? Honestly!”  
Scorpius stared at Draco. “You betrayed me,” he whispered dramatically, causing Draco to chuckle softly. “You promised me to always tell me all the gossip. We had a deal, papa.”  
“I thought you already knew!”  
“No, you didn’t. Otherwise, you would have hinted on it, as an inside joke. Am I not your son anymore?”  
Draco opened his mouth to answer that Albus was his son now too, but realised that it might not be wise to say that if his relationship with Potter was still a bit of a secret. Based on Scorpius’s wicked grin, he knew exactly what Draco had wanted to say.

“Anyway, Albus, I’m glad for you, and I hope that you and Manila will be very happy together. Please, in the future, tell me everything. And papa… I don’t even have words for you,” Scorpius stated.  
Phi snorted. “But are you and Manila dating then?”  
Shyly, Albus looked at his hands. “Yeah. We have been for a while now.”  
“ _What_?” three Malfoys sounded at the same time. Draco leaned back on the fireplace, smirking at his sons and daughter, who were all blinking incredulously.  
“Valentine’s Ball. It was pretty cool.” When Albus realised that all eyes were on him and his dopey grin, he pointed at Draco accusatorily. “He helped!”  
“Why did you keep it quiet?” Beth, another third year, asked.  
Albus shrugged. “It wasn’t really a conscious decision, or anything. It just happened.”

Draco eyed the collection of notes on the fireplace. Perhaps they should take them off now. He undid the sticking charms one by one, after which he pushed the pile of notes in Albus’s hands. He cast a Tempus, only to see that they should rush downstairs for dinner. As he herded the Slytherins to the Great Hall, he wound an arm around Albus’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“You’re not angry, are you?” he asked softly.  
Albus shook his head, smiling brightly. “Nah. I guess I should tell Manila that the secret’s out, though.”  
“Good. Do you think she’ll be angry?”  
“Of course not. She’s all about the reckless revelations and such. She’s a Gryffindor. And if I recall correctly, you quite know how to manage Gryffindors.”  
“Oh, do shut up.”  
“What, don’t I get the right to pay you back for this SHS nonsense of yours?”  
“No, you don’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I’m your superior. In every way.”  
Albus grumbled a bit, but couldn’t suppress the chuckle when Potter’s face lit up upon seeing Draco and Albus walking into the Great Hall. “Dad really loves you, you know.”  
Draco locked eyes with Potter. “I know.” He ruffled Albus’s hair a bit before leaning forward and whispering, “I’m pretty happy with him too.”

During dinner, Potter couldn’t stop smiling at Draco and sharing inside jokes with him. His laughter and happiness was contagious, making Draco itch to rest his head on Potter’s shoulder and have quiet, private conversations. He settled on grinning back.

When Draco and Potter moved to Draco’s apartment after dinner, Draco pulled out a pumpkin treacle tart, and they dug themselves in marking essays, writing lesson plans and reading new material. It was a welcome disturbance when Aquila walked in and sat herself down on the chair opposite of Draco.

“Papa. Is it difficult to produce a Patronus?”  
Draco frowned. “Love, you really don’t need to be able to produce a Patronus yet. You’re only a third year!”  
“Dad could do it in his third year.”  
“Yes, but he is a prodigy,” Draco mocked, grinning at Potter. “You shouldn’t want to look like him.”  
Aquila scoffed. “How old were you when you produced your first Patronus?”  
“Oh, it was somewhere in my Hogwarts days.”  
“And you dare call me a prodigy,” Potter snorted, but his eyes were curiously gazing at Draco.  
“Anyway, papa. Is it difficult?”  
“It depends. On your magical capability, control of your magic, control of your emotions, and the strength of your memory.”  
“Do you think it’ll be difficult for me?”  
“I don’t know, love. You are magically very capable, and you control your magic and emotions well enough, I suppose, but I don’t know which memory you could choose. Besides, it takes practice. Don’t expect to manage it in one day.”  
Potter chuckled. “Knowing her, she’ll probably want to do it within the hour.”  
“Exactly, but that won’t happen. It will get easier the more you use your Patronus, but the first time is difficult.”  
“I know,” Aquila pouted. “Can you help me?”  
“I really don’t think –“  
“Please, papa, _please_. I just really want to know what my Patronus is. People say it says something about your character.”  
Draco grumbled something, avoiding Potter’s eyes. “Fine,” he conceded after a second. “Tomorrow.”  
“Thank you!” Aquila threw her arms around his neck and smacked a kiss on his cheek.

They sat in silence for a moment or two, where Draco was trying to get on with his research, but couldn’t focus with Potter’s eyes burning a hole in his head. Aquila, meanwhile, took bits and pieces of the treacle tart.

“What memory do you use?” Potter suddenly asked.  
Draco didn’t look up. “Nowadays, the birth of those monsters I call children.”  
“Hey!”  
“Oh, those are good moments. Very good,” Potter agreed.  
“And before?” Aquila cut in.  
“Flying. Singing. A white chocolate pie for me alone. The mundane things. I found out that mundane things work best.”  
Potter nodded. “Absolutely. Things that aren’t difficult to imagine. The first time I tried, I used a memory of my parents, but that scene was so rare in my memory, I couldn’t believe that it was true. Which kind of defeats the purpose of using it.”  
“But I don’t know what kind of memory I should use. I have so many happy memories, none of them sticks out.”  
“I’m sure there is something. But that’s a later worry, all right?”  
“All right.”  
“When exactly did you produce your first Patronus?” Potter said curiously.  
Draco folded his hands together after rubbing his nose. “The summer between third and fourth year.”  
“Seriously? That was right after me!”  
“I know. I couldn’t be bested by you, now could I?”  
“Wow. That’s pathetic,” Aquila commented, making Draco laugh softly.  
“What is your Patronus?”  
“An animal.”  
“No shit. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” Potter smiled. “I thought Snape was the only Death Eater that could produce a Patronus.”  
Draco grimaced. “I kept it a secret for about four years. Severus was the only one who knew, and he found out only after three years.”

Potter frowned, clearly wondering why Draco was so precise with the years. Before he could realise what it was about, Aquila hummed softly, pensively, and cuddled next to Draco.

“You kept it a secret until the war? And Severus found out the year before that?” she concluded.  
At Potter’s surprised sound, Draco grimaced again, but nodded.

“Why did you tell them during the war? Wasn’t that dangerous?”  
“Well, they found out. I didn’t really tell anyone voluntarily. I wasn’t careful that day. I didn’t even need my Patronus for protection.”  
“Why did you cast it then?”  
“I needed to see it. Something had just happened that day, and I could really use my Patronus.”  
“Are you happy with your Patronus?” Aquila asked softly, almost in a breath.  
Draco nodded. “Yes. It… has some meaning behind it.”

Suddenly, the door flew open and Cassie bound in, tears streaming down her face. She immediately stalked into the bedroom, closing both doors with a bang.

“I better go check up on her,” Draco mumbled.

When he got into the bedroom, he saw Cassie lying on his bed, with her face pressed in his pillow and sheets clenched in her fists.

“Cassie? Love?” he tried. Cassie’s mop of hair moved as if she was shaking her head, which she probably was. Draco sat on the edge of the bed, carding his fingers through her hair. He saw the miniscule movements of Cassie’s shoulders, indicating that she most likely was suppressing her sobs.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Cass turned on her side, with her back to Draco. Draco decided that he wasn’t going to accept this, and laid besides her, holding her tight, until she turned around and hid her face in his chest.  
“My arm hurts,” she muttered then. Frowning, Draco picked up her arm and investigated it with soft touches. It didn’t look like her arm was hurting her. Of course, she was used to a certain degree of discomfort, since her arm had been misplaced during birth, but Draco was usually able to see whether something was wrong.

“Did something happen?”  
“No. It just… hurts.”  
“Where?”  
“Where it always hurts. Can I get a pain potion?”  
“No love, that might not be a good idea. Is there something I can do to cheer you up?”

Cassie shook her head and hid in Draco’s arms again. Draco started humming a few notes, and when he felt Cassie relax, he decided to sing her song.

“ _Come stop your crying,_  
It will be all right.  
Just take my hand,  
Hold it tight.

 _I will protect you,_  
From all around you.  
I will be here,  
Don’t you cry.”

Cassie clenched her fists tighter in the front of his robes, but Draco caught on her hands in his and intertwined their fingers.

“ _For one so small,_  
You seem so strong.  
My arms will hold you,  
Keep you safe and warm.

 _This bond between us,_  
Can’t be broken.  
I will be here,  
Don’t you cry.

 _‘Cause you’ll be in my heart,_  
Yes, you’ll be in my heart.  
From this day on,  
Now and forever more.

 _You’ll be in my heart,_  
No matter what they say,  
You’ll be here in my heart, always.”

The sobs got louder, racking Cassie’s small body. It tugged on Draco’s heartstrings to see her crying like this, and it made him want to hurt whoever caused it. Because he was pretty sure it wasn’t her arm that was hurting.

 _“Why can’t they understand the way we feel?_  
They just don’t trust what they can’t explain.  
I know we’re different, but deep inside us,  
We’re not that different at all.

 _And you’ll be in my heart._  
Yes, you’ll be in my heart.  
From this day on,  
Now and forever more.

 _Don’t listen to them,_  
‘Cause what do they know?  
We need each other,  
To have and to hold.  
They’ll see in time.  
I know.”

Slowly, it seemed that Cassie’s tears were reaching the bottom of the well, and the sobs got less violent. Cassie still didn’t resurface from Draco’s chest, but that was all right. She could stay there as long as she wanted.

 _“When destiny calls you,_  
You must be strong.  
I may not be with you,  
But you’ve got to hold on.  
They’ll see in time,  
I know.  
We’ll show them together,

 _‘Cause you’ll be in my heart,_  
Believe me, you’ll be in my heart.  
I’ll be there from this day on,  
Now and forever more.”

He hummed the last repeated refrains, rocking Cassie on the slow beat, until she let out a deep sigh.

“Better?”  
“Yes. Thank you, papa.”  
“No problem. Will you tell me what was really going on, or are we going to keep pretending it was your arm?”  
“I got a Bludger against my arm,” Cassie half-smirked.  
Draco nodded. “Of course. If you say so. Do you want some treacle tart?”  
“Is it with pumpkin again?”  
“Yes.”  
“Gross. No thanks. Dad can eat all he wants, and you can indulge him in such a disgusting habit, but I won’t encourage it.”

Laughing, Draco pulled himself up from the bed. They went into the living room, where only Aquila was still seated.

“Dad remembered he had to ask McGonagall something about having the time off next weekend, because he wanted to take all of us somewhere. He said he would be back in ten minutes or so. He also said we could eat the rest of this tart, and that you should give us a piece.”

Draco snorted. “As if Potter would ever say that last bit. How long has he been gone already?”  
“I don’t know. Five minutes? He left quite soon after Cassie came in.”

Right that moment, the door opened slowly, and Potter appeared, looking mussed and confused and worried. His hair was sticking up from the hand he pushed through it repeatedly.

“Speak of the devil,” Cassie grinned.  
Draco stood up, frowning. “What is it? Is there a problem?”  
Potter nodded. “There are… I was just with Minerva, and there were… There are two Aurors in her office, Malfoy. They’re here for you.”

Aquila and Cassie exclaimed outrageous ‘ _What?_ ’s simultaneously, while Draco swallowed heavily.

“I should… go to them, then.”  
“Do you want me to go with?”  
“No. No, stay here. I’ll manage on my own.” He waved distractedly at the girls, meaning that Potter should make sure they got to bed all right, if he was engaged in a long conversation.

When he arrived at Minerva’s office, he smoothed down his robes before saying the password and climbing up the stairs.

“Minerva. Aurors. I gather I was sent for?”  
“Mr. Malfoy. I am Auror Whithal, and this is my partner, Auror Septimius. There have been charges against you. We are here to take you into custody.”

While Auror Septimius was already cuffing Draco, Auror Whithal wasn’t done talking yet.

“You have the right to remain silent, but every question you decide not to answer may be used against you. Every question you do answer, may be used against you as well.”  
“What am I charged for?” Draco protested, refusing to struggle against the cuffs, but raising his chin a tad and straightening his back until he was satisfied with the air he exuded.  
“The treatment of your children.”  
“What? Who pressed charges? What have I done wrong?”  
“The accuser will stay anonymous for the time being. According to our charges, which have been backed with sufficient proof, you have severely mistreated your children, in particular your oldest son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Therefore, you, Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy, are taken into custody in the Auror cells at the Ministry of Magic.”  
“Can I talk to my children?”  
“No, in case you might influence them. You will not be allowed to speak with them until trials are held.”  
“They will worry!”

Minerva cleared her throat delicately, having stood up and frowning disapprovingly at the two Aurors. No doubt she used to teach them when they were still at Hogwarts; both of them shifted under her hard gaze.

“Draco, I will personally ensure that your children are aware of the situation. I will arrange something for them, so they will feel more comfortable until you are spoken free. I assume I am still allowed to stay in touch with Mr. Malfoy?” she directed at the Aurors, who nodded.  
“Everyone is, except his children. He is also not allowed to send a message to them via his other contacts, but I’m sure you will be able to tell them _objectively_ what is going on.”  
Minerva nodded, and Auror Whithal continued. “Mr. Malfoy, you are allowed one letter the moment you arrive in the holdings, which you will dictate to our scribe. This letter may not be longer than five inches. Headmistress McGonagall, good day. We will stay in touch.”

The Aurors pulled Draco down the hallway, through the doors, outside. When they were off Hogwarts-properties, they Apparated in front of the Ministry building and heaved Draco towards the cells.

“You don’t have to push so much, I am walking without resisting,” Draco snapped.  
“Walk faster.”

In the cells, Draco’s cuffs were loosened, and the door slammed shut before he could say anything. The scribe appeared soon after, peering through the look-eye. “Mr. Malfoy, you may now start dictating the letter.”

Grumbling, Draco sat down close to the door and took a breath.

“ _Dear Mother,_

_How are you? Was the last S.P.E.W. meeting to your satisfaction? I assume you managed to get your way with the location for the next event. It was a very good location._

_I do not wish to worry you with this letter. However, I have been taken into custody by the Auror department. Charges have been pressed against me over the treatment of my children, and Scorpius in particular. I do not doubt this is all one misunderstanding; there is not an instance of which I think it may have been cause for a charge of mistreatment. Even though I am sure I will walk out unscathed soon enough, I would like you to arrange a barrister for me, in case the trial gets more complicated than foreseen. Could you make sure of this?_

_Headmistress McGonagall has assured me that my children will be informed, but could you ensure that the other people that should know, know? You know who I am talking about, Mother, and I would really wish for them to be aware of what is happening._

_I am allowed to have visitors in the coming time, but no one is supposed to bring a message from or to my children. Perhaps you could spread this word to anyone who might want to visit._

_In case there is someone that would like to visit, could they bring me something to do? My wand has been taken –naturally- and I can now do no puzzles like I usually do. I do not suppose the Aurors will provide me with some entertainment._

_Now that the important bit is over, I still have about two-hundred words left, and I intend to use every single one of them. If this is the only letter I am allowed to send, I will make full use of it._

_Father has been looking for the new book of Liza Ri, has he not? I bought it a week ago as an accident, but I suppose Father may want it. It is on my nightstand in my Hogwarts apartment. Ophiuchus will know the password. Although I’m not sure you are allowed to ask him this, with the entire ‘no talking to my children’ thing. Perhaps Minerva will know?_

_There is also a package waiting for me at the Malfoy Lodge. It arrived today, and I was planning on picking it up tomorrow, but you see that that may be difficult now. Could you make sure it arrived safely? It is quite fragile, and I fear it may have been broken along the ride. Harky will be able to see if it’s broken, without opening the package._

_Please reassure Harky that he is still in my employment, and that he need not worry._

_And do not worry about me._

_Sincerely &c,  
Draco”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Scream at me via tumblr!](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Or via the comments! I live and breathe for your comments, whether it is a long, detailed description of every reaction you had during reading this chapter, or just 'HI' (on which I *will* reply with 'OOPS'), or whether you will be ranting about real life (or telling me all about the cool stuff you did) I DON'T MIND BECAUSE I WANT TO TALK TO YOU BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS. WELL I DO, BUT YOU GUYS ARE MORE FUN.
> 
> I have a joke, and I think it's really funny but no one else seems to think it is. I hate people.


	45. In the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes yes, I'm late. Deal with it. It's Monday morning, so technically, I'm only eleven hours late. I've done worse.
> 
> Still, it was a fun chapter to write, though I fear it may be a bit boring. It's necessary for the rest of the story. Besides, Draco is in a cell. OF COURSE it's boring. What can one do in a cell?

It had been a week before Draco was allowed any visitors. The guards told him that piles of paperwork had to be sorted through in order to arrange a visit, but Draco was certain that is had something to do with who he was – and what he had marked on his left arm.

However, when he was released from his cell to meet his visitors, he was pleasantly surprised. There, at the table, were George and Potter. Draco smiled widely at them.

“Malfoy!” Potter greeted, going in for a tight hug. The Auror guard cleared his throat pointedly to keep them separated.  
With a sigh, Draco sat down instead of hugging. “I’m glad you’re here. How are the children?”  
George chuckled. “They are doing as well as can be expected. McGonagall allowed them to sleep in your apartment, so they are hanging out with the four of them. They practically live there now.”  
“Good, that’s good. Is Phi keeping occupied? Not bored or anything?”  
“He joins me in almost all my lessons,” Potter cut in. Draco snapped his eyes to him, meeting soft green orbs. “Turns out, he loves the Defense classes. Oh, and he is practicing a lot. With… controlling his appearance.”

Draco nodded, understanding that Potter was talking about the Animagus transformations. George then clasped his hands together.

“Let’s get to business,” he announced. “Your mother has arranged a barrister, and she refuses to tell us his hourly fee, so I’m sure he’s good. She said you might know him, Doctor Selaminder?”  
“Yes, I know him. He is a good man. Will he come visit me anytime soon?”  
“Probably, yes. He wanted to ask you to write out your side of the case, but then Harry found out that you weren’t allowed to send any letters, so he assured us that he will come by as soon as he can arrange it.”  
Looking at his hands, Draco felt that something was wrong. Something about this case wasn’t right. He voiced this to George and Potter.

“The thing is… I don’t know anything. I know that I’m accused of having mistreated my children, and Scorpius in particular, but I don’t know by whom or what their evidence is or what they define as ‘mistreating’. I wouldn’t be able to defend myself if it came to it. I have no idea what to expect.”

Potter frowned. “That’s not how it is supposed to go. There are rules for holding someone in custody. You should be better informed.”  
“Then why aren’t I?”  
“Auror Smiths,” Potter called behind him, to the Auror guard. The Auror nodded to show he was listening. “Who are the Aurors on this case?”  
“I am not supposed to tell, sir.”  
“We just heard that there are many things about this case that aren’t supposed to be. You can tell me.”  
Draco, seeing that Auror Smiths wasn’t going to bend, coughed softly. “Potter. The ones that arrested me were Auror Septimius and Auror Whithal.”

Biting his lip, Potter turned back to Draco. “I don’t know Whithal very well, but Septimius is a bit of a nitwit. He’ll believe anything anyone tells him. He was the worst trainee that ever made it through training. Auror Smiths? Can you tell me something about Whithal?”  
“I’m not –“  
“What bad can it do, man?”  
“Sir, the confidentiality clause states –“  
“I know what that bloody clause states,” Potter snapped. “I wrote that damn thing.”  
“Exactly. You of all people should know that no information can be given to anyone not involved in the case.”

That seemed to be the last Potter could handle. He growled, standing up to face Auror Smiths squarely.

“Auror Smiths. Tell me _in full detail_ what happened with the Weinstein case.”

Smiths slowly turned red, eyes widening and fish-mouthing dumbly. Then he cast his eyes downward and mumbled, “A suspect was uninformed of the case, with resulted in being sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss. However, a week after the sentence was fulfilled, there was undeniable proof that the suspect had been innocent.”  
“That wasn’t full detail, but I’ll let it slide,” Potter grumbled. “What do we conclude from this case?”  
“We conclude that every suspect is allowed to know the details of their accusation, to prevent any other cases like Weinstein,” Smiths recounted, as if the sentence had been drilled into him. The satisfied nod from Potter indicated that it probably had been.

“Now, send a message to Auror Whithal that he should come down here immediately. Auror Septimius may accompany him, of course, as it is their shared case.”

Smiths sighed before waving his wand. After a few seconds, the door opened, another Auror peeking out to hear what Smiths had to say. While George, Potter and Draco went over other mundane parts of their lives –like how George had pranked Narcissa with his teabags- the Aurors behind him seemed to have a quiet discussion. Eventually though, the door opened again and the two Aurors that had arrested Draco walked in.

“Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, sir,” they greeted politely, taking seats on both sides of the table.  
“It’s Malfoy-Potter, actually,” Potter sneered. George suppressed a chuckle, the three Aurors now in the room gaped. Draco raised a hand to his ear to trail his finger along it, then rested it under his chin, all the while feeling the way his eyes crinkled at the corner.

“My apologies, Mr. Malfoy-Potter, sir. May we ask why we have been summoned? It is highly unlikely,” Auror Whithal inquired.  
Potter nodded. “I am aware. However, if I remember correctly, this is the proper way to file a complaint without stepping directly to the Department Head, isn’t it?”

While Draco and George gaped –subtly, of course- Auror Whithal straightened up, visibly surprised but not thrown off his game.

“It is, sir. May I ask what the complaint would be about?”  
“About how poorly the suspect has been informed. It is not according to the rules.”  
Auror Septimius opened his mouth to say something, but Whithal cut him off. “I am afraid I cannot do much about it, sir.”  
“You can. Inform the suspect like he is supposed to be informed.”  
“I am afraid I cannot do much about it, sir,” Whithal repeated.  
Potter’s eyes took on the blazing fire Draco recognised from whenever Potter was determined but there was an annoying obstacle in his way. “Auror Whithal, I command you –“

“No.”

Whithal slowly stood up, square and intimidating. Potter followed his lead, just as intimidating but less collected.

“Mr. Malfoy-Potter,” the lack of _‘sir’_ appropriate for Department Heads and former Heads, was more telling than any stance Whithal could have taken. “I hope you realise you no longer work here.”

They were staring at one another, both with hands behind their back and an unforgiving set to their jaws.

“I do realise,” Potter bit out. “However, I sincerely hope the new Department Head does not allow an uninformed suspect.” While he was talking, he took slow, measured steps forward until he was facing Whithal with only a few centimetres between their toes. Whithal didn’t back off.

“The details of this case cannot be shared with anyone outside the Aurors working it.”

Septimius had joined Whithal in standing, but still didn’t say a word. Potter ignored him completely.

“Yet, a suspect always has to be fully informed of the charges and accuser.”  
“The accuser has asked for witness protection, which is granted.”  
“That doesn’t take away the fact that the suspect is supposed to be informed of his charges. Otherwise, the case will be dropped, according to Proper Trial clause thirteen, paragraph six-point-one, section a. Not that I mind if it would be dropped, since there is nothing that could convince me of the suspect’s guilt.” During the last sentence, Potter turned around and slowly walked back to the table, with a light smirk in place while looking at Draco.

“The suspect is not informed, since it is a Red Case,” Whithals voice now sounded, strong.  
Potter hands, still clasped behind his back, dropped to hand limply on his sides. He turned his head a bit, but held Draco’s eyes in his. “A Red Case?”  
“Yes. Do you remember what that means, or should I remind you?” The mocking undertone had Potter clenching his fists.

He turned around to Whithal again, hands again behind his back. “Since when are domestic cases labelled ‘Red’?”  
“Since this is a Death Eater we are dealing with,” Whithal said with the most infuriating smirk. Belatedly, he added with a sneer, “ _Sir_ ,” making Potter’s shoulder tense in an attempt to stop himself from strangling the man.

Potter took a few deep breaths, forcibly relaxed his shoulders and looked at the ground in concentration, while he started to circle around Whithal with precise little steps.

“And here I was thinking that the law –need I specify the clause?- states that every charge of which the sentence is fulfilled, cannot be used in later trials.” He stopped right in front of Whithal, giving him a side-glance. “Has that law suddenly changed?”

Whithal let out a huff of derogatory laughter. “You may stop the pacing, Mr. Malfoy-Potter. And how convenient that you leave out the article in that same law stating that earlier trials may re-occur if one suspects a pattern.”

The Auror had started to circle around Potter too, ending with a sharp turn to make them face each other again.

If it had been a film, Draco would have enjoyed the obvious power play, but now that it centred on his own trial, he couldn’t see the positive sides of it. George had scooted a bit closer to Draco so the latter could hear his breathing and the tension radiating from him.

“Pray tell, exactly _what_ is the pattern in this case?” Potter snarled.  
The smirk on Whithal’s face was wicked enough that Draco knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“That, Mr. Malfoy-Potter, is confidential. My _sincerest_ apologies.”

Potter sat down again on his chair, with Whithal grinning widely and Septimius still standing on his earlier spot.  
“You may go now,” Potter managed through his anger.  
“Oh no. I would much rather stay here.”  
Potter held Draco’s eyes while he tried to control his breathing. “Fine. You can replace Smiths as guard.”  
“Auror Smiths, for you. And he can stay. We will just sit in. Right, Auror Septimius?”

Septimius smiled a bit awkwardly before sitting down again, with Whithal right next to him. While Draco and Potter were trying to tune out everything else by fiercely staring at one another, an idea came to mind, causing Draco to smirk and raised his chin up. Potter hitched up his eyebrows in question.

“George? Would you leave us alone for a moment?” Draco asked without looking away from Potter.  
Without wondering why, George stood up and let himself be led out of the room.

“Love, can you calm down for me?” Draco simpered in a disgustingly sweet voice. Potter frowned, but very quickly realised what Draco was doing, when he saw Whithal grimace.  
“Of course, darling,” Potter simpered back. “I am so sorry I let myself lose control like that. I just can’t bear the thought of you sitting here, all alone.”  
“Oh no, don’t you worry.” Draco leant forward as close as he was allowed to before Auror Smiths cleared his throat in warning. “I am thinking of you all the time, my love. You keep me company even in the darkest of times.”  
“I truly hope so. I barely sleep without you by my side. You are everything to me, you know that, don’t you, honey?”  
Draco smiled, tilting his head just so, in the way he always hated when schoolgirls did that with their Quidditch captain boyfriends, and started twirling his hair. Potter for his part sighed longingly.

“For Merlin’s sake, let them do what they want,” Whithal snapped to Smiths, while he was storming out of the room. “I don’t even care anymore. That Death Eater must and will be sentenced like he deserves. Let him have his thirty seconds of _happiness_.”

Septimius followed his partner silently, but not without shooting a bright smile at Potter and Draco. As Smiths closed the door, he had trouble suppressing a smirk. “I guess this means you have permission to touch.”

Draco leant back, petting Potter’s outstretched hand, and smiled at Smiths. “Never mind. The moment has broken, unfortunately. Can George come back in?”

Chuckling, Potter shook his head fondly and mirrored Draco’s position. When George walked back in, he saw two completely relaxed men, and joined them in their conversation about whatever nonsense they could think of.

“How are they really? The children?” Draco asked after a few minutes of talking.  
Potter smiled at him. “They are all right. When Minerva told them, they burst out laughing, thinking it was a joke. If Minerva is called to witness, she will show them this memory. She has promised. Ophiuchus stayed behind to assure her that he truly has no idea what it could be about, and he swore to do everything in his power to get you out. However, he thinks it won’t even come to trial.”  
“Bless children’s faith,” Draco remarked. “If only he would ever think about underlying motives. He is too kind for this world.”  
“Aquila is calm as always, though she spends most of her time reading up on the Patronus Charm. I hope you won’t get angry, but I helped her practicing. She already managed an incorporeal one two days back.”

George snorted. “She is truly brilliant. How is she not Minister of Magic yet?”  
“She’s too young,” Draco commented dryly, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Besides, that’s not what she wants.”  
“What does she want then?”  
“Everything she can achieve. She isn’t picky. Can you make sure she eats enough? She has the habit of neglecting herself when something happens.”  
“Just like you,” Potter mumbled, before covering it up with assuring Draco that she was still showing up at every meal and ate normally.

“And Cassie has been showing up at our shop last week, even when we were pretty sure she was _not_ allowed to come to Hogsmeade. She and Ron have been bonding with inventing the most ridiculous props,” George continued the update of the Malfoy children.  
Draco frowned. “How did she get there?” Then he sighed, closing his eyes before looking at Potter with a half-disappointed, half-amused expression. “Have you ever talked about the Marauder’s Map?”  
“Ehm… I told her once, yeah. Why?”  
“And are you sure it’s still in the place where you left it?”  
“Of course, it’s always in my bag, look I have it… right…” Potter searched through his bag, slowing down and looking up at the end of his sentence.

“I must have misplaced it somewhere?” he stated questioningly.  
Draco groaned. “Tell her –“  
Smiths coughed in warning. “No messages to the children, Mr. Malfoy.”  
“Right. Just make sure you get it back, Potter. As soon as possible. George, tell Ron that she isn’t allowed to go there anymore.”  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Potter whispered. When Draco frowned, he looked at his hands before elaborating. “She’s been having a lot of dreams.”  
“Did she come to you?”  
“No, not at first. Scorpius mentioned it. When I asked about it, she told me more about them.”  
“And? What are her dreams about?”

Potter cleared his throat. “Well. One of them was about a very young boy, only six or seven years old, and he was not allowed to go outside. For a long time, he was forced to stay in his room, dark and boring. While he liked being alone, he couldn’t handle staying in such a confined space for long. He only got out when his crying had been reduced to hoarse sobs and his fists hurt from hitting the door repeatedly.”

During the recount of the dream, Draco had tensed, but felt that the Malfoy Mask had fallen in place. It was a memory he hadn’t thought about in a very, very long time. Potter wasn’t done though.

“Last night she dreamt of an older boy, about a decade older than the dream I just told you about. She said the boy was first writhing on the ground from pain, like in other dreams of hers. Then, the dream changed to a picture of this boy sitting in his bedroom again, but he was bound to the wall with his arms tugging on chains and his head lolling on the wall. His face was splotchy, his muscles sore from the torture he just had to endure, and he couldn’t make other noises than soft whimpers. She thought it was because he had been screaming for days on end. With every breath, a wheezing sound came from him. He hadn’t eaten since before the torture, which had been so long ago. Every day, someone would come by to make sure he was still bound, and give him something to drink.”

George choked on his breath. “What kind of sick dreams does she have?” he exclaimed.  
“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Potter asked, keeping his eyes on Draco. “They aren’t dreams. All this actually happened, didn’t it?”

When Draco kept silent, George touched his hand –with no interruption from Smiths, because he was humane enough to know that Draco needed _something_ right now- and lifted Draco’s chin with two fingers, so that they were looking one another in the eye. Potter couldn’t suppress a grin when Draco’s eyes flicked to his for a second, with barely concealed mirth. George burst out in chuckles.

“All right, sorry. Don’t get jealous, Harry, I’m still not quite into guys. However,” and he turned serious again. “However, what does he mean, these things happened?”  
Draco swallowed, casting his eyes down while still having his chin held by George. “They happened.”  
“To whom?”  
“To – to me.”  
George nodded like he had expected that, which probably was the truth. “How come she sees what happened to you? Is she a Seer?”  
“That’s a long story.”  
“And it’s one you should tell us,” Potter stated.

George looked at Smiths, who was still standing impassively at the door. “Are you sure you want to tell it here?”  
Potter shook his head. “Smiths is fine. He knows all about the confidentiality clause, doesn’t he?”  
“Sir, if I may…” Smiths started hesitantly. “You know that I cannot leave you alone, but I can promise that nothing said in this room will be repeated to others. This is not to do with the case, which means Aurors Whithal and Septimius don’t have the right to know.”  
“I get the idea you don’t like them.”  
“I don’t. Especially after seeing how Whithal treated you. I wasn’t a Hufflepuff for nothing, Mr. Malfoy-Potter, sir.”  
Draco laughed. “I like you, Smiths.”  
“Good. Now you can start talking,” George cut to the case.

“Fine. You know Cassie’s got a bad arm, right? She got that during birth. She was positioned wrongly, and the twisting and turning hurt her arm. I don’t know if you know this, but when wizarding children get hurt, there is this burst of magic as an expression of their pain. The same happened during Cassie’s birth. The sudden magic clashed massively with Astoria’s magical signature, creating some kind of magical blockade. The Healers couldn’t get through the blockade to see how she was doing. If this kind of thing happens, they have one solution. They call for someone with a compatible magical signature as the child and perform a spell. They have people hired for this kind of core magic, people with high compatibility potential.”

Draco cleared his throat and drank from the water Smiths put in front of him. He was shivering lightly, and it might have been because he was suddenly reminded of those awful days being locked up, or the stress of the situation crashing down on him fully.

“However, the person they called for wasn’t compatible enough. Which is very rare. They needed someone with an even more compatible magical core, and the only that would be closer to Cassie’s signature, was me. They said it was a risk. Parents or family members are barely used for this spell, because the two cores, being so close in genetics as well, could link indefinitely. That has the same effect as blood bonds, and is not only dangerous, but just as illegal.”

“You are blood bonded?” George asked, sparing another glance at Smiths.  
Draco shook his head. “I’m not finished yet.

“They used me anyway, otherwise both Astoria and Cassie would die. The spell they performed was supposed to link Cassie’s feelings to mine, temporarily and one-sidedly. This way, I would feel everything she felt, and I could guide the Healers. I had to guarantee I would stay calm and not start panicking if I felt the pain, but that was all right. But then, the magical blockade that had required this spell, made the spell go wonky.

“I did feel everything Cassie felt, but somehow, my memories, feelings and thoughts had been linked to hers. I felt it happen, I felt something poke through my head as if there was a clumsy Legilimens playing around. And when Cassie started talking, and told me about her nightmares, I knew what had happened. The Healers assured me it was impossible, but of course it isn’t. The spell was experimental at best, and with the risky element of linking her feeling with me instead of someone else… It must have been like this.”

George nodded. “It sounds plausible.”  
“So she sees everything you see and thinks everything you think?”  
“No. Thank Merlin she doesn’t. Just… the bulk of my memories and thoughts from the moment of her birth have been conveyed to her. She sees things that have happened to me during the war or before, and sometimes she says things I used to say every day of my life.” Draco shrugged. “She once told me that sometimes, she thinks the most awful things about Muggleborns and the Weasleys, without meaning them. I have had to press on her that she doesn’t say them out loud.”  
“How do you explain it to her?”  
“I haven’t. I told her that they were just dreams, and that those thoughts were nothing to worry about, as long as she doesn’t mean them. She assured me she didn’t, and I am quite sure I have never uttered a bad word about Muggleborns during the last twenty years.”

Swallowing a couple of times, Potter blinked away the tears brimming in the corners of his eyes before walking over to Draco and hugging him close. Smiths wore a wisp of a smile in his otherwise impassive expression, still blankly staring at the wall in front of him.

“Are you saying that every nightmare Cassie has, is something that happened to you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Godric. How are you still sane?” George wondered.  
Draco chuckled wetly. “The same way as you are. Lift your head up, straighten your shoulders and pretend everything is fine.”

It was silent until Potter started talking. “You once said you knew when Cassie will have a nightmare. How do you know?”  
“I’ve noticed they’re very often simultaneous with mine. And her magic starts doing this weird thrumming thing on bad days. I’ve become quite sensitive to people’s magic.”  
“Is that why Cassie is so much like you?”  
“No, I think that’s just her character. It does explain why I understand her so well, though. Anyway. How are Scorpius and Phi? Please tell me they are all right. I need some good news.”  
George laughed. “I believe Ophiuchus is preparing for next year. He is thrilled to go to Hogwarts.”  
“And Scorpius is… Scorpius. He walks around with a frown on his face and he doesn’t leave Albus’s side, only to go to the bathroom. I’m not sure, but I believe Albus also sleeps in your apartment. They have literally become inseparable.”  
“Why is he frowning?”  
“I don’t know. I get the idea he is withholding his anger. Perhaps he’s blaming himself, and it’s eating him up.”  
“I taught Scorpius never to blame himself as long as other people don’t blame him. Can you find out what is bothering him? Perhaps there are students nagging him about it.”  
“I’ll do my best, I promise. Oh, and Theresa has been replacing you in teaching the lower classes. James helps her out as often as he can. I gave them both permission to skip Defense classes, and I am talking McGonagall into giving them permission to teach all seven years.”  
“Two fifth-years teaching sixth- and seventh-years?” George wondered curiously.  
Draco grinned. “Trust me, they are the most capable potioneers I have ever met. Together, they can handle everything the students throw at them. Besides, I assume students respect them for taking their time to teach the classes.”  
“They do. And Slytherins respect Theresa, while Gryffindors respect James, and everyone else doesn’t really care,” Potter supplied.

They kept talking about all seven children, the small things of Hogwarts’s life and George’s shop. When Smiths announced that they had really taken their time, but Draco was supposed to be back in his cell before the Aurors came to talk to him, George gave him a short goodbye and left the room, allowing Potter and Draco to have a bit of privacy.

“Malfoy, I guarantee that this will turn out okay,” Potter swore solemnly.  
Draco shook his head lightly. “Don’t worry about it. I have never mistreated either of them. I know that if everything is done properly, there is nothing I should be afraid of.”  
“That’s exactly why I worry. It is already not done properly. I fear something is terribly wrong. If what Whithal is saying, is correct, then you are facing one of the worst trials in the history of trials.”  
“I’ll manage. There still is a Wizengamot that strives for justice.”  
“Yes, and that Wizengamot hates you. If they have allowed the case to include your Mark, you stand no chance.”  
“We will have to hope that my barrister knows what he is doing.”  
Potter frowned. “Don’t speak of it so easily. You might land in Azkaban.”  
“Or get a Dementor’s Kiss. I know. I am not unaware of the consequences of this trial. I just know, with every fibre of my being, that either it will be a proper case and nothing will come of it, and I’ll be relieved from charges without a second thought, or…” He swallowed. “Or they include my Mark and my past, and I am hopelessly lost, no matter how many witnesses can prove that I am innocent. If the trials are corrupted, then I am already gone, because I’m in custody and can’t be freed until the trials. Trust me, Potter, my fate has already been decided.”

Clenching his jaw and looking pained, Potter hugged Draco close with his nose pressed firmly in Draco’s neck.

“I love you, Malfoy.”  
“Sap,” Draco chuckled, but burrowed closer and whispered, “I love you too.”  
“Smiths, can you turn around, just for a second?” Potter asked without looking away from Draco.

Smiths huffed out a laugh, the first audible hint of emotion, but turned his back to them. Potter used that moment to finally let go of a heavy breath he had been holding and pressed a kiss to Draco’s temple.

When he pulled away, he told Smiths that he could face them again, and walked to his bag.

“Your mother told me you wished for something to do. I brought you ten books of Muggle puzzles and a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that Hermione had lying around somewhere. Lucius sends his regards and Narcissa is contacting everyone she knows who holds even the slightest bit of power. Which are, may I say, _a lot of people_. I thought the Malfoy name had been diminished?”

Draco grinned. “Yes, but Mother is very good at collecting favours she can call in at a later point. Can you tell me what the general opinion is in your group of friends?”  
“ _Our_ group of friends. Pansy, Blaise and Greg almost burst with rage. Greg is doing very well with his rehabilitation, by the way. He barely feels any urges to drink or gamble anymore. And the others… they don’t believe a thing of it. Ron heard from Arthur and Percy that there still is a lot of corruption in the Ministry, even though it’s not to gain more power, but rather, gain public approval. They said your charges fit in the line of sentencing every Death Eater that ever lived.”  
“Just like Jackie’s parents, isn’t it?” Draco murmured. At Potter’s confused look, he smiled. “Jackie’s parents were Death Eaters. They have been captured a few months back.”  
Potter nodded. “Well, that’s exactly what is happening in the Ministry. I think the Wizengamot is eager for the public approval, and tolerates a bit of corruption in the cases here and there. And since you are one of the best known Death Eaters…”  
“They take it out on me.” Draco frowned. “I am starting to worry about my parents, then.”  
“They don’t have a case against them. They’ll be fine.”  
“Unless the Aurors decide to hit them with a domestic trial as well. That they supported me in whatever I did to my children. I wouldn’t put it past Whithal.”

Potter’s face creased in thought. “Should I tell them to try and stay away from the children until the trials are over?”  
“Perhaps. If you could explain it in a letter, it will be fine. And ignore Father, he’ll be in a strop about not seeing Phi or Aquila.”  
“That’s fine. I’ve gotten quite good at ignoring your father.”  
“Ha ha, Potter. I’m serious.”  
“All right, all right. I will keep an eye on any development outside your trials.”  
Draco nodded, satisfied. “Oh! And it may be an odd question, but Cassie got a new broom for Christmas, right? Could you maybe ask Ginny if she can sign it? It would help Cass in the coming period, if I’m not there.”  
“Sure,” Potter grinned. “I have no idea how it would help her, but I’ll ask Ginny. She won’t mind. You people are weird.”  
“It’s all in the name. And thank Hermione for the book. I’ll enjoy it.”

Potter smiled again, kissing Draco once before leaving. When Draco was returned to his cell, it didn’t seem as dark as it had before. He even managed to do a few puzzles with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://www.i-am-and-proud.tumblr.com) needs screaming! And attention. It's lonely.
> 
> AND please comment! Every comment is a breath of fresh air from the real world, which is YAY. The real world is boring.
> 
> I hope I didn't bore you to death with this chapter, and if I did, welcome to the Kingdom of the Dead! I am your leader, and will bring our Kingdom to the greatest heights it will ever come to!
> 
> On your right hand, you see the Mummification Spa, where you can relax and have your brians picked. We have had no complaints so far, and it is known to be one of the best Spa's in the world (Living as well as Dead World).
> 
> On your left hand you see the Tombs, which are the living (no pun intended) quarters of our Kingdom. It's very cosy, with candles that set the mood and thousands of inscriptions to read. There are also pieces of art, but some are difficult to decipher. If you need help decoding it or want to talk about the inscriptions or art, we have Inscription and Art Groups, which are groups of about five to ten people with an interest in the same inscription or piece of art.
> 
> Past the Tombs are the Fields of Elysium. You may know the name from the Greek myths, but it's actually a recreational area. Massive playgrounds for the children, zoos, theaters and natural reserves can be found there. There is no chance you will get lost, and you won't have to worry about anyone going where they are not supposed to go, since every road leads back to the Headquarters where we are now.
> 
> Behind us, you see the army barracks. Everyone who would like to have a function in our Kingdom, is part of the army. These not only include soldiers, but also doctors, teachers and firemen. Before being allowed in the army, you will have to meet with a few demands. Apart from capability tests, you will have to prove that you are not in possession of a soul anymore, and you are fan of Disney. Are you interested? Don't hesitate to come visit the barracks! We are always in need of more people to support our Kingdom, one way or another.
> 
> I live in the Tombs as well, with my entire family. I am not a high-and-mighty leader, and I try to be accessible to everyone. Therefore, there is no need to treat me any differently than others in this Kingdom. Ideas on how to improve the Kingdom? Tell me (or the others of the board)! Complaints? Tell me!
> 
> In short, we are very happy you have chosen to join us, and we will do our very best to make you forget your sadness over dying. We also have a very special and exclusive Living Mirror that allows you to talk one last time to your loved ones in the Living World, but you may only use it once in your time in our Kingdom. Choose wisely.
> 
> Goodbye, Adios, Shalom and Aloha, and may you become happy in our world!


	46. Prepare for the worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo.... exciting chapter! Yupyup! Enjoy ;D

Another week went by, and Draco was feeling the consequences. He wasn’t hungry, he barely slept and there was no chocolate or ice cream for him to consume. He knew, or at least, had a gut feeling, that Cassie wasn’t sleeping either, and he was worried about Scorpius. With the charges being focussed on Scorpius, he would be an easy target for anyone who would want to hurt them. No doubt Scorpius was angry.

And there was no way of knowing how his children were doing. It was getting on Draco’s last nerve.

Tired and cranky, Draco was led to the interrogation room, where Whithal and Septimius were already waiting.

“Mr. Malfoy. Good of you to come,” Whithal greeted, pointing to the empty chair at the table.  
“My pleasure, of course. Did you have a good day?” Draco smiled back, effectively ruining whatever game Whithal had wanted to play.  
Whithal ignored his question, signalling to Septimius that he should hand over the files.

“As we said, this is a Red Case,” Whithal started. “The trial will be held next week, and according to the law, you have to be given a briefing on your case. Your barrister will be allowed to visit you one more time, and he has made an appointment for today. That means we will keep it short.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy. You are charged with domestic abuse and mistreatment of your children, especially your oldest son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, aged fourteen years. From research, we have concluded that these charges form a pattern with earlier crimes. We have sufficient Pensieve proof and eyewitness statements to believe that you are guilty.”

“Who have provided the statements?”  
“Our witnesses will speak at your trial. Their names will be given to your barrister two days before the trial. Furthermore, if the Wizengamot decides you are guilty of domestic abuse, and is convinced of the pattern, a Dementor’s Kiss will be your sentence. If you are only guilty of domestic abuse, you will receive a lifetime in Azkaban. Your barrister will be allowed to call on three witnesses, all of them must be above eighteen years old and in no way related to the suspect. No parents, children, or loved ones,” Whithal sneered with a happy glint in his eyes. “An audience is allowed to witness the trial, but they will be kept away from you. Your safety is of the utmost importance. That was all. Your barrister will arrive in a few minutes.”  
“Why am I not allowed Veritaserum? That would make it all easier, wouldn’t it?”  
Septimius opened his mouth to speak, but Whithal held up his hand to silence him. “We will come back to that during your trial. Good day, Mr. Malfoy.”

The Aurors left and Auror Smiths stood guard again at the door. After a minute or five, Doctor Selaminder walked in, wearing a stern expression.

“Mr. Malfoy, good to see you again.”  
“Likewise, Doctor. Albeit I had hoped it would be in different circumstances.”  
“Of course. Let’s start at the basics, yes?” The barrister sat down while leafing through his papers. “To start easy, we will have to decide on three witnesses. I made a list of suitable candidates. Which ones would you prefer to have on your side?”  
Draco looked over the list, but sighed. “I don’t know, Doctor. You may choose for me. I can’t quite focus.”  
“Why not?”  
“No matter. Tell me more.”  
Doctor Selaminder frowned. “All right. I think Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Zabini and Mr. Goyle are not the best witnesses. They have been too closely related to the Death Eaters. Can you agree with me?”  
“Yes, quite right. You are a capable barrister, you will be able to choose the best witnesses for me.”  
“As you wish. Now,” Doctor Selaminder looked at Auror Smiths. “Could you leave us for a moment?”

Smiling awkwardly, Smiths shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. As this is a Red Case, the suspect is not allowed any unsupervised contact.”  
“Not even with his barrister?”  
“No, sir. Not even then.”  
Draco nodded. “Smiths is all right. He can stay.”  
“Very well then,” Doctor Selaminder frowned. “Very well. Perhaps the Aurors have told you, but there is an audience at your trial.”  
“Yes, they said so. Isn’t that odd? I am not supposed to know a thing, yet there is an entire audience with me?”  
“I suspect they hope for the best. Because, here is the deal, the audience may speak. The audience has an influence on the sentence, either positively or negatively. They can make or break you. We can use that to our benefit.”  
“How?”  
“If you agree, I can invite everyone that is remotely well-wishing towards you. If they want, they can speak and support your case.”  
“Will my children be allowed to speak?”  
“We may as well try.”

Draco nodded. He kept quiet for a few moments, until he let out an exhausted sigh. “Why is this a Red Case?’  
“I don’t know. They must have proof for a pattern.”  
“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means!” Draco snapped. He immediately screwed his eyes shut, apologising softly.  
“I don’t know what their so-called pattern is. Mistreatment of children can consist of everything. However, for your past to have been retried, the mistreatment must have had something to do with your past.”  
“How so?”  
“For example, if it turns out you have taught them the ways of your former affiliations, there is a pattern. If any of them are in touch with the wrong people, your fate is decided.”  
“Do you believe me?”

Doctor Selaminder started at the sudden question. “Believe you?”  
“That I’m innocent. I did not mistreat my children, and Merlin knows I have not tried to convince them of any of my mistakes. I have learned from everything I did wrong when I was their age. I would never, _ever_ want them to become acquainted with any of those _idiots_!”  
“Mr. Malfoy, calm down. Please, calm down. I know. I know you wouldn’t. I have known you ever since your marriage, and I know your children. Save your energy for your trial. I am completely and utterly on your side, and I believe that you are innocent. I will fight for you, Draco.”

Draco smiled. “Thank you, Richard. My apologies. Was there something you needed to discuss with me?”  
“Ah yes. I have had the pleasure of hearing from your ex-wife.”  
“Astoria? What did she have to say?”  
“She asked me about the trial, offered to help.”  
“How did she even know about the trial?”  
“It has been all over the news. There is an anonymous reporter of _The Daily Mail_ –“  
Draco groaned. “I hate whoever that is. They make me ill.”  
“Quite. I told her that I would owl her if we needed more witnesses. Do you want her help?”  
“No. I’m not entirely sure I trust her.”  
“Why not, if I may ask?”  
“It’s just…” Draco gestured loosely with his hand. “Something is off about her. Do you remember why we separated?”  
“She couldn’t handle a Ravenclaw daughter, wasn’t it?”  
“Yes. But also… We had a deal, when we married. She was allowed to have whoever she wanted, as long as the children were mine. There was no love in our marriage, you know that as well as anyone. The only demand was that the children would never find out about her beaus. Unfortunately, they did. Just as they were saying goodbye after a night together. Scorpius caught them. And since then, Astoria has been… acting strange. As if she had an ulterior motive. I don’t know, it makes me want to stay away from her.”

Doctor Selaminder nodded in thought. “I understand. We won’t ask her then. Anyone else you have objections against?”  
“No, not really. Though, I want people to _want_ to testify in my favour, not be forced into it. If they believe I’m innocent, they will testify. I’m sure.”  
“I think so too. I will approach some people, if they don’t come to me. You will get the best witnesses a domestic trial has ever seen, and that’s a promise.”

After that, it didn’t take long before the conversation ended. Smiths guided Doctor Selaminder out to other Aurors, who took him out of the Ministry. When the door closed and the soft beep of a microphone being turned off sounded, Draco slumped in his seat. He shot up again when a shadow fell over the table.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy. I am not here to interrogate you some more,” Smiths smiled. He sat down where Doctor Selaminder has sat just before, scuffing his shoe over the floor a bit. “My name is Samuel Smiths, Muggleborn Hufflepuff. I’m thirty-one years old and never really got used to the fact that magic actually exists. Ever since I rolled into this world, I was told the stories of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Draco Malfoy. It was the reason why I wanted to become an Auror. Everyone told me how lucky I was to live after the War, because there no longer was a target on my back. They told me how you would kill me only because I was no pureblood. They told me you should be the source of all my nightmares.”

Draco sneered, immediately hating everyone who ever talked about him. Now the kind Auror Smiths was against him, and was trying to stamp down any hope Draco had ever had about this trial.

“And when I first heard about this case, I was told that they were charging you for unidentified charges in your time as Death Eater. Some murders or something. I volunteered to guard the conversations, so I could finally see the very reason I wanted to fight against crime. I was so sure you were guilty. I _wanted_ you to be guilty.

“And then I heard the details of the case. I heard that it was a domestic trial, and that you were charged with mistreatment of your children. And however much I wanted you to be charged, I couldn’t believe you would abuse your children. I have heard so much about you, and about your family, and Slytherins in general, that I know it was a false accusation. No way that you, heir of the all-powerful Malfoy family would mistreat its own flesh and blood. It’s not possible for you. Is it?”

Gaping, Draco couldn’t find the words as a response to this little speech. It wasn’t necessary, either, because Smiths had one more thing to say, which threw Draco off so much that he started coughing.

“I will testify in your favour, and I will contact your barrister,” Smiths stated.  
“Why?”  
“As I said, I don’t believe you’re guilty. Besides, if you want anyone to believe you, you better have an Auror on your side. And since former Deputy Head Auror Mr. Harry Malfoy-Potter is not allowed to speak at your trial, I would be honoured to replace him.”  
Draco chuckled. “It means a lot to me. Though, will you even be allowed to testify? You haven’t witnessed me with my children, and you barely know me. And with you being an Auror, I doubt they will have you there without being on duty.”  
“I’ll call in sick, and either sit in the audience or be an official witness for your barrister. I know how trials work, even the Red Cases. I’ve had a few of them myself. I can help you, Mr. Malfoy.”  
“All right. You know how to contact Doctor Selaminder, I presume?”  
“I do. Now, can I escort you back to your cell?”

They walked back in silence, Draco thinking of everything he might have done that people could have interpreted wrongly, and Smiths looking stoically in front of him. In the cell, Draco took out the puzzles Potter had brought him from under his mattress and occupied himself with those. It was difficult to tell when the evening fell, since the cell was dark at the best of times, but it could be deduced from the amount of noise in the holding cells. There were four others in holding, Draco had seen, two of which were accused of breaking and entering, the third of foul language against Aurors, and the fourth was being held accountable for the misfortunate effects of a spell gone wrong. None of them were awaiting a serious trial, none of them was facing possible sentence to Azkaban or a meeting with the Dementors. Draco was the only one.

And he was scared shitless.

He wasn’t fanciful, and he knew what the Wizarding world thought of him. His chances weren’t great. He had a few trusted friends who would definitely believe in his innocence, but the Wizengamot wouldn’t be so easily convinced. And the entire audience that would be present… He was doomed, and he knew it.

Draco dropped his head to the wall with a thump, fiddling with his signet ring. If only he could see his children, or send them a message. He needed to hear from them. He needed to know they were doing all right. And dear Merlin, did he need to hold them close and feel their warmth.

If the Wizengamot decided he was guilty, he would never get to hug them anymore. He would be transported to Azkaban without being allowed to say goodbye to his children. He could already hear their cries. He would never see Phi in Hogwarts robes, or know in which House he would be Sorted. He would never see Cassie grow strong from her nightmares and meet the perfect man. He would never see Aquila become whatever she wanted to become, and he would never be able to tell Matias to take care of her. Scorpius would bear the weight of being the oldest son, he would have to learn to deal with the world’s prejudice much sooner than he deserved.

If they decided he was guilty, he would never get to wind his fingers through Jamie’s hair again. Or tease Albus with his relationship with Manila. He would never see whether Albus and Scorpius’s friendship would last. And dear Lills, he would never get to see that smile light up a room again. He may have just known them for a year – and Albus a bit longer, but never as well as he had gotten to know them this year – but they were so dear to him already.

They were his children, whether it was official or not.

And Salazar, how _Potter_ would be feeling now. He couldn’t do anything, not even speak in Draco’s favour. He was powerless, and if there was something Potter hated, it was feeling powerless to help others. In any case, he was taking care of Draco’s children, which gave him something to do.

A single tear fell from Draco’s eyes, but he rubbed it away immediately. He had to buckle up. He had to –

Right at that moment, a whooshing sound could be heard, and a blue light illuminated the cell. It was an eagle, majestic and strong, landing gracefully on the edge of Draco’s bed. To be exact, it was an eagle Patronus.

The Patronus started speaking right after it had settled down and fluttered its feathers. When Draco recognised Aquila’s voice, he burst out laughing, letting another tear drop in relief.

“ _Hi papa,_

_How do you like my Patronus? Pretty bad-ass, isn’t it? According to the book you gave me for Christmas, it means I’m bold, free and determined. Even though I don’t recognise myself in those traits, I’ll take it as a compliment._

_Dad helped me cast a corporeal Patronus, and he taught me the spell Aurors use to make it talk. I suspected my letters didn’t reach you, otherwise you would have mentioned them to Dad, on his visit. They must be really scared of what you are capable of, if they don’t even allow you your letters. That’s a good thing, that they are scared. It means they know the charges are false, and you will walk free after the trials._

_Oh, don’t look so disapproving. I am only trying to stay positive. We need to stay positive, papa. If we allow ourselves to become negative-minded, it will cost us our energy, and they will be able to bring us down. You used to say that all the time, before we went to Hogwarts. It was your life motto. Use it now._

_I wanted to keep you up-to-date to what is happening here. I can’t tell you Doctor Selaminder’s plans for your trials, because people might be listening. So, I will keep it mundane._

_Ophiuchus has completely gotten control over his appearances. He is proud of it and usually goes outside for a run when it’s dark. He is wonderful, isn’t he? Headmistress McGonagall helps him when he needs it, and they have become close friends. When Phi is not in Dad’s lessons, he is with McGonagall. It must be because they are so alike._

_Speaking of McGonagall, she is fiercely protecting you against everyone that is not supporting you. A few concerned parents have come to Hogwarts to ask her what is going on, and she has been fantastic._ The Daily Prophet _has visited the school, but she keeps them away from any of us. She has made sure that the rumours were kept to a minimum, even going so far as to travel to the_ Prophet _’s headquarters and demand to speak to the Head Editor._

_Luna has gotten someone – an anonymous person – to write a very positive article about you, explaining what is going on and what is so wrong about it. It was the best sold_ Quibbler _edition ever. She is doing a follow-up this week, with daily updates in the last three days before your trial. Ravenclaw sisterhood is a beautiful thing, papa. Luna and I get along just fine._

_The Weasleys have returned to their warfare mind-set again. Charlie did an international interview with the Wireless, where he was talking about dragons. He was glorifying them with subtle – not so subtle – references to you and your predicament. The interview was incredible. I typed it out so you can read it when you’re home.  
Molly has been knitting twenty-four/seven, and had George and Ron sell those sweaters at the Wheezes. The sweaters all have a _ D _on the front, with the following text on the back:_

_‘Unjust charges because of someone’s past is discrimination too!’_

_The sweaters were sold-out in two days, so the entire Weasley clan – including my generation – is knitting during lessons now. We even got the majority of Slytherin as far as to join us. During free periods and meal times, everyone who is participating, sits prominently together at one of the tables. Hagrid has made a sweater himself for Witherwings._

_Oh, and Ginny has promised to meet everyone that can prove they have a sweater. Some of her teammates join her. It’s a massive success, and great promo for the Harpies. Everyone’s happy!_

_I was updating you on how we are doing._

_Lily was the first one to start knitting at Hogwarts, and she is the one that teaches everyone that wants to participate. She actually got into a fight with someone last week, because he insulted you and she wouldn’t have it. Dad wasn’t so happy, but the guy learned his lesson. He now walks around missing one tooth. We don’t pity him._

_Cass is all right, considering the circumstances. She doesn’t sleep. Dad has told you about her nightmares, I think, and you will have known already. Ginny and Ron are doing their best to keep her from harm. The broom Ginny signed, helped a lot, for a couple hours. Cassie is mostly in the greenhouses, only comes out to fly a bit or for Defense and Herbology classes. She doesn’t go to any other classes, but keeps up with the material herself. Neville promised me to keep an eye on her when she’s with him. They talk a lot about plants and flowers, and Cassie always looks a bit better when she returns from the greenhouses. Ron sends her two letters a day – and according to Dad, he has never been able to do that, not even to Molly._

_Albus and Scorpius are inseparable, truly. Scorpius is grumpy and annoyed, but mostly angry. He snaps at everyone. It’s impossible to hold a proper conversation with him, unless your name is Albus Severus Potter, and you have been his best friend since your first year at Hogwarts. But Scorp is still himself. He stays awake with Cassie until his eyes drop closed, and he holds her as tight as possible without suffocating her. They usually wake up all tangled up. I get the feeling he is planning something, and it worries me. But don’t break your pretty little head over this, papa, we will make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.  
Albus keeps him in check as well. They sit down together mid-afternoon and just talk about everything that’s bothering them. Afterwards they hug and don’t let go until Cassie needs Scorpius._

_Manila is a wonderful girl, by the way. She gives Albie and Scorp their space, and is generally just very helpful. Albus has done well with her._

_And well, I have broken through with my Patronus. I think that says enough, doesn’t it? I am also very invested in my school work, but that’s all right. Matias keeps me company and makes sure I don’t lose myself in it. He is convinced of your innocence too, if that helps._

_And James… James is teaching the Potions classes with Theresa. All of them. They are pretty good. I never knew anyone with Potter and Weasley blood could brew a proper potion, but James can. He is an amazing teacher – must have gotten that from Dad – and knows a lot. And if he doesn’t know something, he doesn’t hesitate to admit it and look it up in one of the books. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to stick with potioneering from now on._

_Theresa is a bit with-drawn, but I have never gotten a good idea of her, so it might just be me. Ah well, she’s a good teacher too, like James._

_Jackie asked about you. She missed you. She said she felt safer with you around, even if you were at the other side of the castle. I didn’t know you were so close with her? When did that happen? In any case, she will join us in the audience at your trial, and if she gets a word in, she will defend you. Her testimony will hold some weight, surely, with her parents being called by you. Or perhaps not, because her parents were Death Eaters too… I don’t know, we’ll see what Doctor Selaminder has to say. She supports you, and that’s all that matters._

_Oh, and Suzanne has made a couple hundreds of flyers, which she is distributing all over Hogsmeade. Some of the shop owners have put it in front of their windows. They have lost a bit of clientele, but we are making it up by buying their shops empty._

_All in all, there is a solid base of people that support you. Bill, Percy and Arthur are pulling their weight within the Ministry, subtly convincing everyone that you are innocent. We aren’t sure how well it works, but it’s the effort that counts._

_Hermione, as Minister of Magic, has a prominent seat within the Wizengamot, and she is in attendance at the day of your trial. We don’t know whether she will be allowed to speak and vote, because the law isn’t clear about this sort of thing, but she will certainly try her best._

_Pansy, Blaise and Greg are staying low, just like Grandfather and Grandmother. I think that’s for the best, but we can’t visit them for the time being, which is unfair. But we know that they support you and don’t believe a thing of these charges._

_Mother reached out to us as well. She said she couldn’t believe this trial, and then asked to speak to Scorpius alone. When their conversation had ended, Scorpius walked out of the room with a shocked expression on his face, fear clear in his eyes, and he wouldn’t speak to us for a day. He now says it was nothing. But… you know Scorp.  
We sent Mother away soon after, and McGonagall told her that she wasn’t allowed to come by anytime soon._

_By the way, your apartment has sort of become our headquarters. We are solidly living there with the seven us, and Dad stays in his own room at night. We do our homework there when the Great Hall isn’t available, with the Weasleys and our plus-ones. It’s more fun than you’d expect._

_Your chocolate and ice cream stock is finished, though. Whoops?_

_All right, I should probably end this. Dad said the Patronus couldn’t handle much longer than fifteen minutes of speech, and I guess I have reached the fifteen minute mark._

_I love you, papa. A whole lot. So do the others. We know that these charges are – pardon my language – bullshit, and we will do everything in our power to let the world know. You are our papa, and nothing will ever change that. Please know this._

_Your ever-loving daughter, who will not for a second allow people to think that you’d harm us,_

_Aquila Malfoy”_

Draco watched the eagle disintegrate before he lied down and stared at the ceiling. Aquila was right. He did have to stay positive, and believe in himself. Of course he wasn’t guilty. He knew that, and everyone with a brain knew that.

He was worried about Scorpius and Cassie, though. And why would Astoria have visited them so suddenly? There wasn’t a reason for her to come by. She had walked away and hadn’t looked back since, so there was truly nothing that would…

Unless she was behind the charges. She had always wanted Scorpius for herself, and the charges being focussed on Scorpius could give her this chance. She would take custody of their eldest, and the others would become either Potter’s or his parents’s responsibility.

But Astoria wouldn’t do that, would she? She wasn’t evil. Draco knew she wasn’t, he had lived with her for fifteen years, for Salazar’s sake. Who else could it be?

He shook his head in defeat. He should try to sleep, or at least, get some rest. In a week, he would go to trial, and he needed to be prepared.

Prepared for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple chapters back I said something about a joke, and you wanted to know what it was. Here it goes:  
> What is Barack Obama's favourite vegetable?
> 
>  
> 
> Barack-oli!
> 
> Get it? Broccoli? Yeah?
> 
> I've got loads more where that came from.
> 
> Oh, and I've got Tumblr, but I'm too lazy to put down the link. Fight me. It's in the other chapters.
> 
> PLEASE SCREAM AT ME IN THE COMMENTS. Comments will get you to know who accused Draco!


	47. Draco's Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daaaaammmn this is a long chapter. 7500 words, while a regular chapter is about 5000 words.
> 
> Let's just say I had a lot of ideas.
> 
> ALSO we hit the 200,000 mark! And we now have over 400 pages! It's crazy! I truly thought that this would be a 50,000 word story, if that. I am flabbergasted by your comments and sweetness and support, seriously. Only 10 more chapters to go and I have written more than the longest book of the HP series (OOTP). Let's do this shit!

“Silence, please!” a booming voice sounded inside Courtroom One. Draco was standing outside the doors with four guards around him. When the door opened, five hundred pairs of eyes landed on him in a deafening silence, and Draco knew not even ten percent was benevolent to him.

On the first row of the audience were his children. Cassie looked awful; tired, barely keeping her eyes open, and slumped in her seat. Ophiuchus’s magic was thrumming around him. Aquila had a calming hand on Phi’s shoulder and another on Scorp’s knee. Albus had an arm thrown around Scorpius as well, and James and Lily were trying to keep Cassie awake by offering her bottles of water and Sugar Quills.

If this was the last time Draco could see his children, he would make sure they could be proud of him. He straightened his back, crooked a smile towards James and winked at Phi. When he sat down on the chair, someone from the back of the audience started yelling and threw a filthy sock at Draco’s head. Scorpius turned around rapidly, fuming with anger, but was held in his spot by Albus and Aquila.

Draco just relaxed his shoulders and leant back.

“Settle down, settle down. This is the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy, accused of mistreatment of his children, Scorpius Hyperion, Aquila Auriga, Cassiopeia Circinus and Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy. First, we will have official testimonies of witnesses of both sides, and their respective enquires. After that, the audience may put a word in. The suspect is defended by Barrister Doctor Richard Selaminder,” the Court Scribe intoned. “The accusing party may start.”

Auror Whithal and Auror Septimius stood up, both nodded at the Wizengamot, and then walked over to where Draco was seated.

“Mr. Malfoy. You are charged with mistreatment and abuse of your children. Concluding from our research and various testimonies, the charges have been placed in pattern with former offenses of the law, being your history as a Death Eater and supporter of Voldemort. What do you plead?”  
“I plead not guilty,” Draco calmly stated, looking Whithal right in the eye. From the audience, loud boos and whistles were heard.

“Have you broken the law since your trial in 1998?”  
“No, I have not.”  
Septimius handed Whithal a paper, which Whithal then handed to the chairman of the Wizengamot. Papers were also handed to every member of the audience. Doctor Selaminder frowned. The audience wasn't supposed to get such papers.

“No? Have you or have you not used Legilimency without permission?”  
“I don’t believe I have.”  
“You believe wrong. On August 14th last year, you have used Legilimency on Mr. Harry James Potter, without gaining his explicit approval. Do you deny this?”  
“I can’t remember,” Draco answered. He saw Potter in the audience, gnashing his teeth and tapping his foot nervously.

Whithal turned to the Wizengamot and shrugged. “If he doesn’t remember such a serious offense, it can only mean two things. Either, he is lying, and we cannot trust a thing he says, or he has partaken in so many criminal acts, that he doesn’t feel this occasion was anything special. Both do not speak in his favour.”

A murmur went through the courtroom, and the scribe had to ask for silence again. Whithal turned back to Draco with a smirk, quickly concealing it to continue his talk.

“On October 15th last year, your youngest son, Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy, Metamorphmagus, morphed into Voldemort. Do you deny this?”  
“No. This is true.”  
“Do you deny that he did this because you asked him to?”  
“Yes! I would _never_ ask Phi to do that,” Draco frowned.  
“Do you have proof that it wasn’t your doing?”  
“Ask Phi. Ask anyone who was there. Ask _me_ , I’ll give you my word that I am speaking with full honesty!”  
“And how much worth holds the word of a Death Eater, pray tell?” Whithal sneered. He leant on the desk at which Septimius was sat and cocked his head to the side. “Now, another question. Can you tell us what your Boggart is?”

Draco exchanged a look with Doctor Selaminder, both not understanding what this had to do with the case, but at Whithal’s questioning hum, Draco turned back to him.

“My Boggart is seeing my children with Tom Riddle and his snake. What does this have to do with my charges?”  
Whithal ignored him. “And on November 22nd, during the exemplary dual of you and Mr. Potter, which spells did you cast?”  
“I don’t remember. I think there was a Pepper Breath hex somewhere.”  
“Let me refresh your memory. You kept on the defensive for the majority of the duel, correct? Then, suddenly, out of nothing, you cast a sharp Stinging hex, followed by a Pepper Breath, and then a Broken Bone curse. Do you know how many of these are illegal in exemplary duels?”

Seeing Potter close his eyes and drop his head backwards, made Draco lose all hope. He was doomed. The audience and Wizengamot were already convinced that he was guilty. Not guilty of mistreatment of his children, but guilty of many other illegal actions, most of which had been with Potter as its subject. In other words: he had broken the sanctity of the Boy-Who-Lived and now had to pay the consequences.

“I’ll tell you,” Whithal continued. “Stinging hexes are illegal starting from a certain viciousness. You crossed that boundary by half of the allowed sharpness. Pepper Breath hexes are illegal in exemplary duels, since they can lead to suffocation and choking, and they can backfire on the audience. Which consisted of students, ladies and gentlemen. Including his own children. The very children that Mr. Malfoy is charged with mistreating.

“The third curse you cast, the Broken Bone curse, is not only illegal in exemplary duels, but it’s illegal for everyone that is not an Auror. This is a fairly recent law, introduced by who other than our dear own former Deputy Head Auror Mr. Potter. Do you see why we have a problem with you?”

There was a rumble in the audience. Two Aurors had cast a Shield in front of Draco, and a couple others were calming a man that Draco vaguely recognised from something. He was aggressively waving his wand, continuously casting spells in Draco’s direction. Whithal ignored it in favour of handing out another paper to everyone present.

“I would like to call the first witness.”

From the doors, guarded by an Auror, Lazarus, one of Draco’s more annoying students, stepped in. The students and teachers that were attending the trial, like the Weasleys, Jackie, Minerva and Neville, started chattering. Minerva was obviously getting agitated.

Potter wasn’t watching anymore. He was resting his arms on his legs and looked at the ground with a deep crease between his eyes. Ophiuchus had left his former seat and was now leaning heavily against Potter.

“Please state your name, age and relation to the suspect,” Whithal said to Lazarus, when he was seated.  
“Lazarus Convorall, age fourteen, classmate of his eldest daughter,” Lazarus said lazily. He grinned at the audience.  
“Thank you. How would you describe Mr. Malfoy’s way of teaching?”  
“It’s all right, I suppose. Nothing special. Though, we use different instructions for brewing potions than the years before.”  
“Different instructions?”  
“Yes. With our last professor, we used the Ministry-approved books and methods. Now, we get handouts with other methods. If we don’t follow those, points get docked.”  
Whithal hummed, glancing at the Wizengamot. “So Mr. Malfoy is not using Ministry-approved methods. What kind of methods does he use then?”  
“He said that the instructions on the handouts resulted in better potions, and that the Ministry was prejudiced against Slytherins, while Slytherins make the best Potions Masters. He sounded bitter when he said that.”  
“Did he sound like he may have been one of the Slytherins whose methods didn’t get approved by the Ministry?”

Doctor Selaminder stood up, calling ‘Objection! Conjecture!’ but was silenced immediately by the chairman, who made him sit back down and allowed Whithal to continue.

“I don’t know. It could be. It would explain a lot. I can’t be sure, of course.”  
“No, of course. Don’t worry about it. Now, you said you were a classmate of his eldest daughter, of Aquila. What are your thoughts on Aquila’s relationship with her father?”  
“Well, Aquila is the only one of that family that didn’t get into Slytherin, and she was visibly miserable during her first year at Hogwarts. Especially the first couple of months. Also, she has an arrangement with her father to meet him every single day, which I find a bit odd. She never wanted to tell us why she had to meet him. It just doesn’t sit right with me, that she _has_ to meet him. It has never been an option for her to skip it for a game of Wizard’s Chess or anything. It was an obligation.”

Whithal nodded understandingly. “Anything else?”  
“I don’t know whether this has anything to do with the accusations, but I would like to say that I never saw any affection or sign of love between Mr. Malfoy and his children. Not even when I insulted him –because, I admit, I don’t like Mr. Malfoy very much- and Scorpius and Aquila defended him vehemently, did he show any emotions. It was as if he expected his children to stand up for him. But… that’s all I have for now. Is that okay?”  
“Yes, of course. Thank you. The defendant’s barrister will speak with you now.”

Doctor Selaminder stood up while Whithal went to sit, and turned to the Wizengamot.

“What we have heard now, is the testimony of someone who doesn’t like Mr. Malfoy very much. We all know that the witness’s story may not be the perfect recounting of facts. I would like to know _why_ Mr. Convorall doesn’t like Mr. Malfoy very much. Mr. Convorall?”

“You can call me Lazarus, if you want,” Lazarus smiled. “But okay. Well, I don’t like Professor Malfoy because he is a Death Eater. I can’t trust him. Every time we are brewing a potion in class, and he has to help someone, he rolls up his sleeves and broadcasts his Mark for everyone to see. It makes me feel sick to the stomach. How can anyone carry that thing with so much pride? We all know what the Mark stood for, what kind of violence and hatred hid under it. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone who carries that Mark is able to abuse their children.”

“Have you ever seen any kind of sign that Mr. Malfoy might be mistreating his children?”  
“Well, as I said, I never saw any sign of love between them. I haven’t seen explicit signs, like bruises or something. However, now that I think of it…” Lazarus frowned in thought. “I have seen Scorpius slipping out of the hospital wing a couple of times this year, with unhealed bruises and scars on his arms and face. I didn’t know what to think of it, until now.”  
“And you can’t think of any other reason why Scorpius may have those bruises?”  
“No, not really. He is well-liked, you know.”  
“Very well. Thank you, Mr. Convorall.”

Lazarus waved before he was led away by his Auror guard again. Doctor Selaminder called forward his first witness, Neville.

“Please state your name, age and relation to the suspect,” Doctor Selaminder smiled.  
Neville coughed. “My name is Neville Longbottom, I am thirty-nine years old and I am colleague and friend of Draco. I was in the same year as he was, and was Housemates with Harry Potter. We became good friends.”  
“What does Mr. Potter have to do with this?” Whithal objected.  
“You brought him into this with your accusations,” Neville shrugged. “I am merely following your lead. I’m not entirely sure how these trials work. Sorry.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Longbottom. You said you were a colleague and friend of Mr. Malfoy. But we know from his trials in ’98 that he hasn’t always been your friend. Could you explain?”  
“Of course. When Draco started working at Hogwarts this year, I already knew his eldest children. Cassie and I spent many days together in the greenhouses to take care of the plants, and we became friends, however odd that may sound. And whenever I meet Scorpius and Aquila, we joke a bit and have casual conversation. I knew from the way his children spoke about Draco, that he wasn’t he annoying prat he used to be when we were younger. And at the beginning of this schoolyear, he apologised to me about the way he had treated me. We became friends.”  
“And do you think he could mistreat his children?”  
“No. Not for a second. He is the most loving, generous and wonderful papa I have ever seen. I don’t know whether I would have been as good a parent as Draco is. I like to think that if my parents hadn’t been in St. Mungo’s all my life, they would treat me the way Draco treats his children.”  
“How much would you value a promise, if Draco gave you his word on it?” Doctor Selaminder asked.  
Neville laughed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. If Draco gives you his _word_ , you know you are safe. Slytherins are like that. Honour is honour. And you don’t come back on your word. Besides, even if he wasn’t a Slytherin, I would still believe him. I trust him. With my life,” he added with a pointed glance to Whithal and Septimius.  
“Thank you, Mr. Longbottom, that would be all.”

Whithal then stood, arms crossed and a pensive expression. “Mr. Longbottom. Neville. You have known Mr. Malfoy as a friend for less than a year, correct?”  
“Correct.”  
“And you would already trust him with your life?”  
“Yes.”  
“So within a year, you managed to forget all the hateful things Mr. Malfoy has done to you, your loved ones and people you have never heard of? Within a year, you got chubby with him and call him ‘loving’, ‘generous,’ and ‘wonderful’?”  
“Yes.”  
“Don’t you think that’s a bit weird?”  
“Why would it be?”  
“Well,” Whithal said, addressing the Wizengamot. “Mr. Malfoy has… bullied you. Verbally abused you. Physically abused you. Stole your belongings. Taunt you with your parents’s situation. Taunt you with your living arrangements, with your grandmother. Laughed at you. Made fun of you. Made the entire Slytherin House make fun of you. And yet you call him your friend.”  
“That was a long time ago. I have gotten over it.”  
“Because of a single apology?”  
“Yes. It was heartfelt and sincere.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because I am rather good at reading people.”  
Whithal smirked. “Aha. But didn’t you know that Mr. Malfoy is rather good at portraying emotions he doesn’t feel? It’s called the Malfoy Mask. His father has the same talent. And both of them are wearing the Dark Mark. I see a pattern.”

Neville shook his head. “You are trying to make me doubt him, but it won’t work. His children couldn’t have been so positive about him, if he was mistreating them in any way. They love him unconditionally, and Draco loves _them_ , unconditionally. There is no question about it.”  
“But this case isn’t about love. It’s about mistreatment and abuse. And people can abuse others, even if they believe they love them. But I digress. Now, you don’t deny that Mr. Malfoy has done those things to you, do you?”  
“No, I don’t, but they –“  
“Happened a long time ago. I know. I just think that if Mr. Malfoy had no qualms treating you like trash, the way he did when he was at Hogwarts, he wouldn’t have any qualms doing that to others as well. He mistreated and abused _you_ when you were a child, didn’t he? Then why wouldn’t he abuse _other_ children?”  
Scoffing, Neville made a disbelieving gesture. “We were the same age. You can’t say that just because _I_ was a child, he is now a child abuser. _He_ was a child too, so _if_ he would be an abuser, it would be about people of the same age. No children. Besides, he wouldn’t harm his own flesh and blood. No one in their right mind would.”  
“And now we get to the heart of the case. Is Mr. Malfoy in his right mind, or has he somehow become a madman?”  
“What?” Neville mumbled, but he was redirected to his seat. The stand was taken by the second witness of the accusing party.

“Please state your name, age and relation to the suspect.”  
“I’m Terence Goldstein, fourteen years old, and former student of Professor Malfoy. Oh, and Housemate of his daughter and classmate of his son.”  
“I’m Priscus Belby, fourteen, former student of Professor Malfoy and House- and classmate of the twins.”

Draco stared at Terence and Priscus, who had the galls to testify at his trial, after having done such terrible things to his children. Their testimony wasn’t anything special, except for the fact that Terence broke out in tears while he was telling how unsafe and terrified he felt whenever Draco was around. Because of his loud, wailing sobs, and the fear in his eyes, Terence and Priscus had to leave the courtroom soon after, so that Doctor Selaminder hadn’t been able to ask them any question.

Draco suspected unfair play, but he wasn’t allowed to speak

Then, Doctor Selaminder called Minerva to the stand as a witness. She used her wand to extract a memory and directed it into the waiting Pensive. Whithal, Septimius, the Court Scribe, the chairman and Hermione –as Minister of Magic- were all allowed to watch the memory. The scribe then scribbled down everything the memory made him think and feel, and read it aloud.

“The memory of Minerva McGonagall, Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, functions as her full testimony.  
First, we see the suspect watching his children while they are animatedly talking. The memory lets us know that Ms. McGonagall is surprised by the pure adoration in Mr. Malfoy’s expression. She had never seen him smile like that before. He even threw his head back in laughter.

“Then, we see Mr. Malfoy speaking to his colleague, the flying instructor, with his youngest son Ophiuchus on his lap. Ophiuchus is tired and quiet. After a moment, Mr. Malfoy bends forward to whisper in his son’s ear, after which Ophiuchus smiles and curls up on Mr. Malfoy’s lap. Not long after, Ophiuchus falls asleep. Mr. Malfoy winds both arms around him and rocks him softly, caressing his hair without ceasing his conversation with the flying instructor.

“The third scene is of Mr. Malfoy asleep on a chair in Ms. McGonagall’s office. Ms. McGonagall is speaking to Scorpius. At the end of the conversation, instead of leaving, Scorpius walks to Mr. Malfoy and crawls onto the chair as well. He holds a book in his hands, which he starts to read as soon as he is comfortable. Mr. Malfoy automatically moves to accommodate Scorpius and hold him close, resting his head on Scorpius’s shoulder in his sleep.

“Furthermore, we see Cassiopeia sitting in the Great Hall after curfew, crying with her face in the crook of her arms. Before Ms. McGonagall can move towards her to ask what is going on, Mr. Malfoy is seen crouching next to Cassiopeia. The moment Cassiopeia notices Mr. Malfoy, she throws herself at him and doesn’t let him go until her sobbing has stopped. Mr. Malfoy doesn’t blink, just wraps himself around her in an effort to protect her against the world.

“The second-before-last scene is of his eldest daughter, Aquila, working hard to understand a complicated part of magical theory. Mr. Malfoy sits down next to her, and when he hears what she doesn’t understand, he begins to explain the exact workings of it in such a passionate way, that Aquila can’t help but become interested. With endless patience and boundless energy, Mr. Malfoy keeps answering every question Aquila asks him, until they are just sitting in the dark, with an almost-burnt candle, talking about everything and nothing at all.

“Finally, we see the most recent memory. Ms. McGonagall is explaining to the children why Mr. Malfoy is arrested by the Aurors. When she says that he is charged for mistreatment of his children, their first reaction is to laugh and think it a joke. Ms. McGonagall needs about five minutes to convince them that it really is true, and that some people really do think Mr. Malfoy mistreated them. All seven of them decide that it is nonsense, and resolve to help Mr. Malfoy.”

The scribe looked up when he finished reading, and Draco chanced another look at the audience. There were people frowning now, and whispering all around. The members of the Wizengamot all seemed rather surprised.

Until Whithal introduces the next witness.

“Please state your name, age and relation to the suspect.”  
“Astoria Greengrass, sir. Aged thirty-eight. I have been married to Draco Malfoy for fifteen years, from my twenty-first to my thirty-sixth.”  
“Why did you get a divorce?”  
“Because we had grown apart, and I had fallen in love with someone else. It was better for both of us to separate.”  
“And you didn’t make a claim to the children?”  
“No. As I said, I had fallen in love with someone else, and he told me that he wouldn’t be able to become a new father to the four of them. I thought he loved me too, and so, I left my children with Draco.”  
“Do you regret it now?”  
“Yes. I was blinded by love. If I had been thinking clearly, I had known that leaving them with Draco wasn’t the right decision.”  
“Are you thinking clearly now?”  
“I think I do, yes.”  
“Do you think Mr. Malfoy capable of abusing his children?”  
Astoria looked at her hands. “Yes,” she whispered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. A tear slid over her cheek.

“This is such _bullshit_!” Scorpius suddenly screamed.  
Whithal turned around with a withering glare, saying, “It is not allowed to interrupt a testimony.”

Only after exchanging a pleading look with Scorpius, his son sat back down and Draco could breathe again. Cassie now was much paler than at the beginning of the trial, and seemed close to tears. She looked like she was on the brink of passing out. She locked eyes with Draco during Astoria’s entire testimony.

“Why do you think your ex-husband would abuse your children, Ms. Greengrass?”  
Astoria swallowed. “I have multiple reasons. Draco has never had a good father figure himself. He was raised in tumultuous times, with a lot of violence around him while was growing up. His father never loved him the way a father would love a son, and so, Draco doesn’t know how to express love. He only knows that he should continue the Malfoy line and produce an heir. He has that heir now, but he doesn’t know that Scorpius is more than just an heir. He treats Scorpius like an adult, ever since he could walk and talk, and he pressures Scorpius to be better than he really can be. He even forced Scorpius to sign business papers when he was only seven years old.”  
“So do you think only Scorpius is being mistreated?”  
“No. The others too. The others are being ignored, neglected and seen as less important than Scorpius. The idea that Draco has of Scorpius being vital to the wellbeing of the Malfoy family, and that the others are less worthy, leads to verbal abuse of all four. Their self-esteem and self-worth are non-existent, due to Draco’s way of treating them. It’s awful. It hurts to see them so unhappy.”

Whithal nodded sympathetically, before allowing Doctor Selaminder to question Astoria. Doctor Selaminder kept quiet for a second, but then stood close to Astoria and went on to have a faux-casual conversation with her.

“How would you describe the dynamics within your family when you were still married to Mr. Malfoy?”  
“Like any other family, I suppose. We did our things, we worked, and we enjoyed our meals together. There wasn’t anything special.”  
“So there were no signs that Mr. Malfoy was mistreating his children?”  
“No, there weren’t. He did get angry easily though, and we had many shouting matches together.”  
“What where those fights about?”  
“We didn’t see eye to eye in the way we wanted to raise our children. We fought about their friends, the Houses they were supposed to be in, the primary education we wanted to send them to.”  
Doctor Selaminder hummed. “Did you ever think during your marriage, that he would take his anger out on the children?”  
“He had me to lash out to, didn’t he? So no, during our marriage, our children were safe.”  
“And now?”  
“Now, they aren’t. I am sure of it. Perhaps there is no physical abuse, but verbally, they are being beaten down.”

From the corner of his eyes, Draco saw that Hermione was frowning heavily and whispering to some Auror guards. He didn’t turn his head to look at them, because Cassie was staring at him with an expression that told him she needed the contact they had. It worried Draco, how ill Cassie looked.

“Don’t you think Mr. Malfoy would have started his ‘verbal abuse’, as you call it, of Scorpius, during your marriage already? Wouldn’t he make sure to treat Scorpius better than the others from the very beginning, to produce a proper heir?”  
“I don’t –“  
“Please answer the question, Ms. Greengrass,” the chairman cut in.  
Astoria flicked her gaze to Whithal and Septimius. “I would have stopped him if he did.”  
“I understand. But I think you would _remember_ it, if Mr. Malfoy would treat his son so differently from the others. Wouldn’t you?”  
“But –“  
“And since you don’t remember it, I don’t think it happened during your marriage. And I think that if it didn’t happen during your marriage, is also isn’t happening now. It wouldn’t work very well to start treating Scorpius differently only after your divorce. It just doesn’t make sense.”  
“No, but Draco really is –“  
“And so, if your story about favouring Scorpius over the others isn’t correct, why would we believe your claim that Mr. Malfoy is mistreating his children at all?”  
“Because –“  
“No further questions. I would like to call forward my last witness, Auror Samuel Smiths.”

Whithal was starting to protest, but Auror Smiths had already taken his place at the stand to state his age and relation to Draco.

“Auror Smiths. How did you decide that you wanted to testify at this trial?” Doctor Selaminder asked.  
“I was present as Auror guard at all of his meetings, either with my colleagues, or with his friends. I heard everything he said, and I realised that he was falsely accused. There isn’t a chance that this man would _ever_ mistreat his children.”  
“Why not?”  
“Well, first of all, because if he mistreats his children, they may decide to step away from their heritage, and he would have no more heirs. No one who cares for their family line would do that. But mostly because it’s his flesh and blood. They are his life. I don’t know a better father, and trust me, I come from a very happy home. The way he speaks of them is enough for me to know that he wouldn’t hurt them if his life depended on it. I have listened to all his interrogations, I have observed him in his cell, and I found out that he would do anything to make sure his children are happy and safe. There is nothing that could convince me otherwise, because I have _seen_ how much he loves them. This trial is nothing more than an excuse to lock Mr. Malfoy up, just because some people think he wasn’t punished enough after the war. This trial is, like Scorpius accurately said, _bullshit_. And if the suspect was given Veritaserum, we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

Doctor Selaminder nodded. “No further questions.”  
When Whithal stood up, he seemed angry and annoyed at Smiths, and Draco hoped that it meant he didn’t have much to ask Smiths. He hoped that perhaps his chances were turning.

“Auror Smiths, you mentioned something about Veritaserum. That is very good, because I wanted to explain that. Therefore, I call forward our last witness –“  
“Objection. We were only allowed three witnesses,” Doctor Selaminder frowned.  
“ _You_ were allowed three witnesses. We were allowed five, as long as Terence and Priscus were together. I would like to call forward my last witness.”

Draco was still looking at his children, and saw the immediate change in their faces when the new witness walked in. Phi’s magic was blazing around him, strong enough that an actual blue shine was visible. He was able to control it enough so nothing exploded, but it seemed a near thing. Lily and Cassie were both watching with their mouths open in shock, a deep crease between their eyes. Aquila had her eyebrows knitted together, but was mostly trying to keep Scorpius and James in their seats, just like Albus was.

Scorpius and James were shouting, hurt plain on their faces and anger in their features. It took an Auror force of four men to calm them down.

Theresa Zarnel was seated proudly at the witness’s stand.

“My name is Theresa Zarnel, I am sixteen years old, and I am student of Slytherin House.”  
“Is that your only relation to the suspect?”  
“No, sir. I have also been assisting him in an experimental research of his.”  
“And why are you testifying against your tutor?”  
“Because I know he is in the wrong,” Theresa stated. “You see, when he asked me to become his apprentice, and help him with a certain research, he refused to tell me what the research was about. He only said that we were going to brew potions with magically adapted ingredients.”

A gasp went through the Wizengamot. Draco clenched his fist, knowing that this could become very ugly, if no one was able to refute Theresa’s story.”

“Ah. Can you tell us everything you know about this research?”  
“Of course. The research consisted of brewing potions, as I said, with magically adapted ingredients. I am not sure which ingredients have been adapted, and how, but I know the result was that less enhancers were necessary.   
“Enhancers are ingredients that enhance the magical ability of the main roots, plants and hairs we put in a potion,” Whithal supplied to some confused-looking people.  
“Indeed. These enhancers are usually the parts that make a potion dangerous, addictive or poisonous. If these enhancers aren’t necessary anymore, all kinds of potions will become available to the wide public.” Theresa took a breath and smiled angelically at the audience. “The moment I realised what this could mean – namely that untested potions with possible dangerous effects could land in every household – I told Auror Whithal all about it, to gain his advice on what to do.”

A growl sounded from the corner where the Weasleys and the children were seated. Aquila had let go of Scorpius, and had thrown an arm around Ophiuchus to try and keep him calm. His eyes were black already.

“Then, as Lazarus also said in his testimony, I saw Scorpius leave the hospital wing on a regular basis, with bruises and scars all over his body. He refused to tell anyone what it was about, and hid in his dorm when people asked about it. And when Albus – Potter – fell in love with a girl, Mr. Malfoy was the one that blurted it out to all the Slytherins.”

Suddenly, Scorpius, James and Albus didn’t look so angry anymore. They were whispering, and Scorpius had that look he always got when he was planning something. Draco shrugged it off. He didn’t think there was any hope left for him anymore.

“So do you think Mr. Malfoy is mistreating and abusing his children?”  
“I think he is, yes. At least, I _know_ that there is something terribly wrong.”  
“Ah yes, you said something about the potion-brewing. The defense was wondering why Mr. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to take Veritaserum, if that made the case so much easier. Could you enlighten us?”  
Theresa looked at her hands. “I went through Mr. Malfoy’s office a few times, to find some ingredients and to ensure to myself that I wasn’t aiding a criminal. I found some incriminating research papers.”  
“Being?”  
“A research to antidotes for Veritaserum.” While Theresa spoke, Whithal handed out another piece of parchment to the Wizengamot and the audience, on which a summary of Draco’s research results was written.

“Aha,” Whithal smirked. “And now we know that Mr. Malfoy is able to brew an antidote to Veritaserum. Because we don’t know how long the effects of this antidote last, we haven’t given Mr. Malfoy any Veritaserum. We also don’t know what will happen _if_ he drinks it. Therefore, we have to work with witness testimonies only. Thank you, Ms. Zarnel, for your presence. Doctor Selaminder? Anything to add?”

Doctor Selaminder sighed, standing up and leaning on his desk. “Ms. Zarnel, were you the one to press charges against Mr. Malfoy?”  
“I was the one to first inform Auror Whithal of his experimental brewing.”  
“But you didn’t accuse him of mistreating his children?”  
“Not in so many words. Auror Whithal became my confidant, and I told him everything I worried about. For example the fact that Cassie doesn’t have any friends, and always keeps her distance from people. Or that Phi was allowed to join in Defense classes and watch while spells were cast. I felt it wasn’t right, and I needed to tell someone. That someone was Auror Whithal.”  
“And Auror Whithal shaped it into a domestic abuse trial?”  
“He said that he had other witnesses that also thought Mr. Malfoy was mistreating his children.”

Nodding, Doctor Selaminder turned to the Wizengamot. “May I address the suspect with a few questions?”  
The chairman gestured to continue, so Doctor Selaminder faced Draco, smiled encouragingly before asking his questions.

“Mr. Malfoy, is it true that you have been experimentally brewing?”  
“Yes.”  
“Have you done research to an antidote for Veritaserum?”  
“Yes.”  
“Could you tell us your results?”

Draco racked his brain to remember the correct results. “Well, an antidote is possible to brew with the magically adapted ingredients –“  
Whithal grinned.  
“- but if you take Veritaserum _before_ the antidote, the antidote doesn’t work. And if you take Veritaserum _after_ the antidote, you’ll be dead within thirty minutes.”  
“Dead?”  
“Yes. The ingredient that counters the babbling of Veritaserum, doesn’t work well with the ingredients that causes the physical disability to speak an untruth. It clashes, and results in heart failure. A healthy, grown man will die in twenty-seven minutes and forty seconds. Women, children, older people, ill people, they will all die sooner.”  
“Would you be willing to take Veritaserum now?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you have a wish to die?”  
“No. I am far too happy with my life as it is.”  
“Concerning the charges against you, about mistreatment and abuse of your children, what do you plead?”  
“Not guilty, sir.”  
“Not even after hearing the testimonies?”  
“No. I am _not guilty_ and that is the truth.”

Doctor Selaminder folded his hands together before turning to the Wizengamot. “I am finished. The witnesses are finished. It is in your hands.”

The chairman of the Wizengamot gestured to the scribe, who started to explain how the rest of the trial was going to be. The audience was now allowed to speak. There was a dozen that came to the stand and began to tell Draco how much they hated him, and how he had ruined their lives. After those few angry people had gotten their say, the noise and yells mellowed down. The chairman shortly explained how the Wizengamot was going to vote, and then called for everyone to raise their hand if they thought Draco was guilty.

Almost everyone raised their hand to Draco’s guilt.

When Hermione raised her hand prominently and deliberately at the question who thought Draco was innocent, an uproar within the Wizengamot was the result. The chairman was asked to wait in uttering the verdict while the fifty members discussed the case together.

While everyone’s attention was on the Wizengamot, Scorpius stood up and strolled towards the stand. An Auror stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, but it only took one glare from Scorpius to make the Auror release him.

At the stand, Scorpius cleared his throat. The Wizengamot quieted, along with the audience. Potter looked up again, while he had been staring at the ground, the ceiling or the insides of his eye lids during the trial.

“I would like to testify,” Scorpius stated calmly.  
Whithal sneered. “Family is not allowed to testify.”  
“Let me clarify. I would like to testify _against_ Draco Malfoy.”

Draco stared at him. He couldn’t help it, there were tears threatening to fall. Everyone who had stood by Draco’s side, the Weasleys, Jackie, Neville, Minerva, all were deafeningly silent and wore the same disbelieving expression. Only Albus seemed undisturbed.

“You are right,” Scorpius began, indicating Auror Whithal and Auror Septimius. “Papa has abused us. He has submitted us to the worst torture. It is time the world knows who he really is.

“From the first moment I can remember, I have had to live up to all these expectations. I was supposed to be proud, smart, and handsome. I was supposed to be the best of my class; the best flyer, the best caster and the best joker. I was supposed to be the best in everything. And if I wasn’t, I was laughed at, mocked and bullied. I was, and am, supposed to be the Malfoy Heir, and everything it comprises. And Merlin forbid I made a mistake!

“There were also many things I had to believe in. I had to believe in pureblood superiority, in the Malfoy superiority and in everything Tom Riddle had ever said. I had to hate Muggles, bully people that were beneath me, and use others to make myself look better. That’s the way Malfoys are, they said. It’s how you live, they said. You don’t have a choice. That’s what I was told from my infancy to now.

“However, these expectations weren’t from papa. These things I was told, I wasn’t told by papa. In fact, he told me the exact opposite. He told me I didn’t have to be the best in something, if I didn’t want to. He told me I could be friends with whoever I liked. He told me that I had every choice in the world.

“And when I said that I wanted to be the best potioneer Salazar had ever seen, he helped me. When I wrote him a letter telling that my new best friend was Albus Severus Potter, he invited him over. When I felt my back was forced against the wall, he broke it down and showed me the way to another chance.”

Scorpius looked around at the audience. People was hanging on his every word, listening with awe to what he had to say.

“Papa never had unreasonable expectations or hopes for me. His only hope for me and my siblings is that we will be happy, whatever we do. The people that _did_ have these expectations, were the Aurors that came to investigate papa ten years ago. It were the journalists of _The Daily Prophet_ , who have been harassing papa ever since the war ended. It was my mother, who never wanted anything but a marriage to a family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were the ones that broke down my confidence until it was close to non-existent. My sister Aquila doesn’t like to be a Ravenclaw, because people have always told her she didn’t belong there. She was told to be a disappointment to the Malfoy name, because she wasn’t in Slytherin. And it wasn’t papa who told her. It was Mother, and it was Mother’s beau.

“Papa was the one who had to witness our self-esteem crumble to pieces, and he was the one to build it up again. He gave us the ability to love and laugh, and made us into the people we are today. Everything he had, he gave us.

“Do you see my youngest sister Cassiopeia over there? She looks ill, doesn’t she? That is because she has trouble sleeping. She has nightmares. And last three weeks, she hasn’t had a full night of sleep, because there was no one to calm her down and care for her. This is how Cassie looks when papa is not with us.

“I started by saying that we have indeed been tortured by papa. Our torture consists of being spoiled with so much love and generosity, that we can’t live without. I wouldn’t know what to do if papa were to die, or land in Azkaban. We need him. Our torture also consists of knowing that we will never be able to repay him for everything he has done for us. We can’t find the words to express how much we love him. We can only show it in fighting for him. And that is what I am doing here.

“I am fighting for my papa. Because I know that he is falsely accused, and that he is the kindest man on Earth. And if any of you even _dares_ to say that papa is guilty,” Scorpius was addressing the Wizengamot now, “then I will personally go to Azkaban, until everyone agrees that no one is better for his children than Draco Malfoy. Thank you.”

He stood up and walked over to his seat, high-fiving Albus, James and Phi on his way there. Ron and George ruffled his hair, while Molly wiped away the few tears in her eyes.

Hermione cleared her throat to indicate that the chairman could start the voting again. There was a lot of chaos, with everyone talking at once and trying to be the loudest, but in the end the votes were clear.

As soon as Draco was proclaimed innocent, the magic binding him to the chair was released, and he flew to his children. Cassie fell into his arms, unable to keep herself up any longer, and passed out with her head in his neck. While Smiths was getting a glass of water for her, Draco hugged everyone who had tried to help him. Molly presented him with a sweater she had knitted for him, with the D in the front, and on the back the slogan she had thought of. George never once left Draco’s side, and kept a hand on his shoulder at all times, making it difficult to manoeuver, but making Draco feel steady as well. Percy, Bill and Arthur had to say goodbye to a few of their colleagues, after which they rushed to congratulate Draco.

James locked eyes with Theresa on the other side of the courtroom. He averted his gaze soon after, turning his back on her and focussing on Aquila and Dominique. Roxane and Louis were talking to Phi, and the other Weasleys were talking to each other. Lucius and Narcissa were even accepted in a stilted conversation between Ginny, Dean and Fleur.

At long last, Draco saw Potter. He was still seated, with his head between his hands and a wild expression on his face. When he saw Draco looking at him, a huge grin appeared, making him look even more like a crazed monkey. With a soundly sleeping Cassie in his arms, Draco shook himself free of George’s hand and grabbed Potter’s to pull him up.

The audience had gone away, and only the last members of the Wizengamot were still present, and Draco kissed Potter.

When he pulled back, Potter had a frown on his face, with the smile still in place. “How do you do that?” Potter wondered.  
“What?”  
“You haven’t eaten chocolate in three weeks!”  
Draco raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”  
“How do you still taste like chocolate, even though you haven’t had anything in almost a month?”

Starting to laugh with relief, giddiness and disbelief, Draco shrugged. “I don’t know, Potter. I guess it’s just my natural taste.”

Potter smiled. He absently stroked Cassie’s hair and pulled Draco close for a hug, until Hermione broke them apart and they all went to the Burrow for a big, festive dinner.

Everyone wore their knitted sweaters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And all was well.


	48. Publicly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo. It's Thursday. That's a bit late, isn't it?
> 
> Yeah...
> 
> Well...
> 
> Life sucks.
> 
> ALSO! Next weekend there won't be a chapter, but it will be uploaded on **May 2nd**!!! (Wednesday instead of Sunday). Does that date mean anything to you? Anything HP related? No? Well, better look it up.

The few days after Draco’s trial, Draco had to divide his attention between Potter and his children. Cassie didn’t sleep in her own dorm, rather staying with Draco to catch up on sleep. She barely left his side, unless it was necessary, and the couple moments that Draco was _not_ in her line of sight, she had gotten involved in three fights. In just as many days.

Needless to say, Draco didn’t really let her stray far, unless she was with Potter.

Scorpius’s anger had subsided a bit, but he had gotten protective over Cassie. He was the one that stopped her fights and calmed her down. They often disappeared together to talk, after which Scorpius immediately sought out Albus and dragged him to their dorm.

Everything else was much the same, albeit Phi clung to Draco a bit tighter when someone showed any kind of disagreement with Draco.

And Theresa… Well. Draco was glad they had finished their research, because he wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise. There was a lot of tension within Slytherin House, with most people either indifferent or on Draco’s side, and a few very persistent ones that supported Theresa. Scorpius couldn’t look her in the eye anymore without clenching his fists. James had had exactly one conversation with her since the trials, but he had come back in a rage.

Potter and Draco had sat together one evening, to reconnect after the three weeks of stress. They shared a bar of chocolate – milk, because it had been Potter’s turn to choose – and gulped down litres of tea before they switched to the Butterbeer.

“I’m just so glad it’s all over,” Potter sighed. “Last couple of weeks were awful.”  
Draco hummed. “Not just the last couple of weeks.”  
“Do you mean since the twin’s birthday?”  
“Exactly,” Draco mumbled. “This entire year, actually. I haven’t had this much trouble since the year after Hogwarts.”

While Potter chuckled softly and pulled Draco closer, Draco frowned. “Hold on. I haven’t had this much trouble since the year after Hogwarts.”  
“Yeah, you already said that. Why?”

When Draco opened his mouth to explain, the door swung open and Phi walked in. His shoulders were tense and he was sniffling a bit. As soon as he saw Draco and Potter, he snuggled in between them and stole some of the chocolate. A faint smile appeared at the taste.

“Dad, I’m so glad you and papa are together now. If you make sure we get different chocolate than the endless white, I don’t even want you to leave.”  
Potter laughed. “I’m not leaving anytime soon, Phi. I’m not that easily gotten rid of.”  
“Why were you coming in here with such a pout?” Draco cut in.

Ophiuchus shrugged. “Just… Cassie barely escaped another fight, and I just remembered that if things had gone differently, you wouldn’t be here and I couldn’t come in to ask for a hug.”  
“I know, love. Don’t think about the what ifs. Just enjoy what we have now. Enjoy the small things in life.”  
“I just don’t think any of us would survive without you. I, for one, don’t know what to do if you aren’t around.”  
“You are only ten years old. Of course you can’t live without me yet,” Draco scoffed jokingly.  
Phi rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. All of us are much more mature than others of our age. Without you, Scorpius is constantly angry, focusses it inwards and is self-destructing. Just like you actually.”

Potter chuckled stupidly, Phi continued. “Aquila dives into her books and tries to know more and more, until her brains explodes with all the new information. And she remembers everything and becomes a genius, but never even thinks about fighting back. Look at that, just like you.”

Breaking off another piece of chocolate, Draco rubbed his nose and tried to suppress his smile.

“And then comes Cassie. She doesn’t sleep, she’s aggressive and she feels like the world is against her. She doesn’t care about a thing that’s being said about her, but will hurt anyone who is speaking badly of us. Does it come as a surprise if I told you that that’s just like you?”

“All right, that’s enough,” Draco laughed. Phi lolled his head on Potter’s shoulder, smiling too.  
“I’m not finished yet. It seems like I am the only who keeps his head clear. I don’t fight, I still sleep properly, I’m not angry and I don’t study my arse off. I keep normal. And that’s not really like you.”

“He is normal enough,” Potter stated. “He isn’t freaking out or anything.”  
“I wouldn’t call him normal. He’s still worrying and breaking his head over this thing. And he normally isn’t as cuddly and clingy as he has been last week.”  
“Hey! I’m always up for a cuddle.”  
“But you don’t initiate it as often as you do now. I’m not complaining, of course.”  
Draco grumbled. “Just for the record, you aren’t as ‘normal’ as you pretend to be.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You are acting differently, too. You sit between us, instead of on either one’s lap. You’re making more jokes, trying to be louder and to gain more attention. And, not unimportantly, your magic is swirling around you like a cloak in a hurricane. It’s making my nerves tingle.”  
“Well done, papa. I hadn’t even noticed it myself. You’re still sharp, I see.”  
“Of course I am. I always am.”  
“Unless I’m trying to woo you,” Potter mumbled, causing both Malfoys to turn to him with similarly raised eyebrows. “What?”

Draco shook his head, accommodating Phi who was pressing closer, with his eyes closed.

“Hey papa. Can you sing me a song?”  
“I’d love to, but I don’t have any inspiration.”  
“Just sing my song. I want that.”  
“Your song is special, Phi. I can’t just sing it. It would lose its meaning.”  
“Well, I could use it right now. A reminder of what we have.”

Sighing softly, Draco searched for his wand to turn on the music. When he couldn’t find it, Phi told him to sing a cappella and yawned. At Potter’s curious smile, Draco leant his head back and took Potter’s hand behind Phi’s back.

 _“Tomorrow morning I have to leave_  
_But wherever I may be_  
_Best believe I’m thinking of you_  
_Can’t believe how much I love you_

 _All we have is here tonight_  
_We don’t want to waste this time_  
_Give me something to remember_  
_Baby put your lips on mine,_ ”

Potter looked at the picture the three of them made. He could see them like this for years. He could see them grow old together, and he could see the amazing family they would make. Their children would get children, and Potter and Draco would get to spoil them with toy brooms, sugar quills and endless stories.

Their love story would be beautiful enough to be captured in films. Their entire lives would be perfect. Not flawless – Draco still had to forgive him for the Sectumsempra scars – but perfect all the same.

He couldn’t wait.

 _“And I’ll love you forever_  
_Anytime that we find ourselves apart_

 _Just close your eyes_  
_And you’ll be here with me_  
_Just look to your heart_  
_And that’s where I’ll be_  
_If you just close your eyes_  
_Till you’re drifting away_  
_You’ll never be too far from me_  
_If you close your eyes_ ”

Potter locked eyes with Phi, who was looking at him with a curious gaze. When Potter just smiled and returned to looking at Draco, Phi snorted softly and leant back against them.

 _“I know I’m gonna see you again_  
_But promise me that you won’t forget_  
_Cause as long as you remember_  
_A part of us will be together_  
_So even when you’re fast asleep_  
_Look for me inside your dreams_  
_Keep believing in what we’re sharing_  
_And even when I’m not there to tell you_

 _I’ll, I’ll love you forever_  
_Anytime that I can’t be where you are”_

Draco hummed the chorus, not quietly, as if unaware of his audience. His hand that wasn’t occupied by Potter’s, was carding through Phi’s hair and tapping in the rhythm of the song. Potter looked at Draco some more, just appreciating the way he had let his hair down instead of one of the intricate designs he usually wore. When he closed his eyes, he let himself get carried away in the melodic tune of Draco’s singing again, and enjoyed frilly fantasies of spending the rest of his life with this family.

 _“Is there anywhere that far?_  
_Anytime you’re feeling low_  
_Is there anywhere that love cannot reach?_  
_Oh no_

 _It could be anywhere on Earth,_  
_It could be anywhere I’ll be_  
_Oh baby if you want to see_  
_You just close your eyes_

_Just close your eyes if you wanna know,”_

As the song ended and Draco went silent, Phi had fallen asleep and their tea had gone cold. It was getting dark out. Cassie would come up soon to say goodnight. Potter decided to pick up Phi and carry him to the bedroom, so that Draco wouldn’t have to get up. In the bedroom, Phi sleepily helped put on his pyjamas and crawled under the covers. Potter sat with him until Phi turned on his other side and his breath evened out.

Back in the living room, Draco was just sitting down from having cleaned up the mugs and saying goodnight to Cassie. When Potter reappeared, he patted on the spot next to him to make Potter sit down. He did so with a sigh.

“I think Ophiuchus is happy to have you back,” Potter smiled.  
“I should hope so,” Draco commented. “But no, I know what you mean. I have to talk to you about something, though. It’s serious.”  
Potter frowned. “Is there a problem?”  
“I wasn’t supposed to win the trials, Potter.” When Potter seemed to protest, Draco held up his hand to keep him from speaking. “No, listen. I’m not saying I was guilty, because I’m _not_. I love my children more than anything and I wouldn’t hurt them for the world. However, I wasn’t supposed to walk out scot-free. The odds were entirely against me. You saw the first vote of the Wizengamot.”  
“But in the end, they decided you were innocent. That first vote was chaos.”  
“You don’t understand,” Draco shook his head. “The Wizengamot had already decided I was guilty. The only thing that stopped them, was Hermione voting in my favour, and Scorpius who managed to be able to speak. But it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Do you remember how confident Whithal was? If the Wizengamot hadn’t gotten confused by Hermione’s vote, and if Scorpius hadn’t made use of the disorder, I would be in Azkaban right now.”

Wringing his hands together, Potter knitted his eyebrows to try to understand what Draco was saying.

“But you aren’t. I don’t understand what you mean.”  
“I mean that I didn’t stand a chance, without Hermione and Scorpius.”  
“So you want to thank them? I’m sure –“  
“No. Potter. Please. Listen to me.”

Draco scratched his forehead in order to find a way of properly explaining it to Potter.

“I haven’t had this much trouble since right after the war, as I said before Phi walked in. The odds of this trial were against me. I think nothing that happened this year is coincidental.”  
“Are you saying you think someone is out to fight you?”  
“Exactly. It must be. Too many strange things have happened, and they were too focussed on our family and on our weaknesses, to have been separate incidents. It is too… too _much_ , you know?”  
“Hmm,” Potter hummed. “Did you get any strange letters or notes?”  
“After that first article, yes.”  
“And nothing else?”  
“N- well. There was a note on my door a few months ago. After you had tried to explain to me what a Muggle Christmas entailed.”  
“Who was it from? What did it say? What was the handwriting like?” Potter fired, immediately in his Auror mode.

Draco laughed. “I don’t know, Potter. I didn’t read it. I took it off my door without looking at it. I’m sure I have it somewhere.”

He stood up, walked to the bedroom and returned with a box which he put down on the coffee table.

“I’m going to warn you, Potter. The note must be in here, but there are a lot of other letters and pictures as well. And those aren’t… enjoyable.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Remember that Pansy told you I got letters and pictures during the war with information from my father?”  
Potter nodded.  
“I never got rid of them. I burnt the letters of course, like Father asked me to, but I kept the pictures. So if we are supposed to find the note, we will have to dig through these. If you’re not up for it, that’s all right.”

Sweeping his expression of any reluctance, Potter opened the box and grabbed a pile of parchments and photographs, giving Draco another such pile. They looked at one another, Draco took a sip from his tea, Potter swallowed, and they went to work.

Draco had seen the pictures already, so he was unsurprised by what he saw. The stories behind them, and the memories of the letters that had accompanied these pictures, were unforeseen, though, and he felt his throat close with every new picture he held.

Next to him, Potter was keeping himself very still and made no sounds whatsoever. He was watching several photographs move, the fire in one of them grappling around him so violently, that they could almost hear it. There was another picture, one where Potter couldn’t look away from.

“Potter,” Draco sighed, taking the photographs away from him. “Calm down.”  
“Why did you keep them?”  
“During the war, I was ordered to keep them. My dorm at Hogwarts was the safest place for an archive, since the Aurors wouldn’t blow up the castle. After the war, I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, because that would mean pretending that it never happened. I never got around to getting rid of it.”  
Potter summoned the Firewhiskey and the tumblers, poured them both a proper glass and gulped his own down.

“You forget the rocks,” Draco commented.  
Potter shrugged, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “Why isn’t that damn note on top of the pile?”  
“Magic, Potter. Magic is the answer to everything.”  
“Okay. What kind of note are we even looking for?”  
“Just… a scrap of parchment folded in the length.”

Potter lazily pushed around the papers without really looking at them, until he touched upon parchment that was obviously ripped from a roll bought at Dervish and Banges. When he folded it open, his expression turned worried and angry.

“Malfoy. You were right. There is a problem.”  
“What does it say?” Draco ripped the note from Potter’s hands, quickly scanning over it.

“Shit.”  
“Quite right.”

The note wasn’t much, only about five lines.

 _“You shouldn’t have accepted this job. You shouldn’t be around HP. You will pay for this_ ,” the note said. _“You have been warned.”_

Potter started shaking his head, standing up to face Draco fully. “Tell me everything you think is linked to this. Tell me everything that is out of order.”  
“The articles in the _The Prophet_ , the duel. The potion in that letter of yours, which made you so angry during the battle, isn’t widely available or easy to brew. Scorpius being beaten, Lazarus, Terence and Priscus. Theresa. Phi having such difficulty with his Animagus magic. Now that I think of it, Phi being an Animagus is strange anyways. We have an explanation now, but it’s still highly unlikely.”  
“Anything else?”  
“The note. The trial. Shit, Cassie has been distant and odd this year. The way she has behaved isn’t like her. Pansy explained it away as puberty, but if I think of the rest of this year, I wouldn’t be surprised if her behaviour had something to do with it.”  
“Who could it be?”  
“I don’t know. Theresa said that she was the one to inform Whithal, but my guess is that Whithal actually came to _her_.”  
“So you think he is behind it? Does he have a motive?”  
“Perhaps. I’m not aware of any families with that name. What I want to know is what Septimius’s role was in this thing. Did he support Whithal’s case, or did he just do whatever his partner wanted?”  
“Hmm,” Potter hummed. “You said that Terence and Priscus were part of the strange things that happened this year. Why is that?”  
“Oh. I know they have been bullying Slytherins for three years, but I just feel like it reached an extreme this year. Scorp said that the way it _felt_ to the Slytherins had changed, that it now felt more vindictive than before. As if there was more purpose behind it.”

There was a silence in which they both sipped from their Firewhiskey and mulled over the new information.

“At the trial…” Potter started hesitantly. “Lazarus said that Scorpius had been leaving the hospital wing lately, with bruises and scratches. Do you think he has been fighting people that were bullying Slytherins?”  
“No. Slytherins aren’t bullied anymore. Not physically, at least,” Draco said. He rubbed his hand over his forehead in thought.  
“Then why?”  
“Because… all right, I need you to keep a secret. Can you do that?”

Potter nodded earnestly, sitting up straight to indicate his attention.

“I told you about the Wolfsbane I developed myself, with Neville’s adapted plants.”  
“Yeah, you said you had tested it on someone.”  
“Exactly. That _someone_ needs a sort of guard, to make sure they don’t get out of their hiding place. Scorpius offered to help. To be honest, Scorp was the one to tell me that someone suffered from lycanthropy.”  
“And his bruises were from the werewolf person?”  
Draco chuckled. “Yes. Scorpius has to force them into their hiding place, because they don’t want to go. And right before the full moon, they are already stronger than usual. Scorpius sometimes gets bruises of it, but he has never been seriously hurt. It’s no big deal.”  
“Okay,” Potter sighed. “Then I don’t have to worry about that as well. Good. So now we have all those odd things that happened this year, and a note.”  
“Exactly. We could go to a friend of mine, to see if he recognises the handwriting or the magical signature,” Draco suggested.  
“Is that necessary? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to beat the shit out of whoever is responsible for all the hurt you’ve been through, but we won. We already won, Malfoy. There isn’t a reason to fight anymore.”  
“No, Potter. We didn’t win yet.”  
“Yes, we did. We won the trial, they can’t have anything against you anymore. You said it yourself, you weren’t supposed to win the trial. That was their endgame, but we beat them.”

Sitting back on the sofa with a sigh, Draco shook his head. “No. Listen to me. Whoever this is, knows the exact weaknesses of me and my children. They know how to break us. Chances are that this person is a Slytherin, or has a Slytherin-like mind. And if that is so, then this was only the beginning. The endgame is yet to come.”

Potter stared at him. “How can anything be worse than Scorpius in the hospital and the trial?”  
“You know how.”

The silence between them was heavy. A few photographs from the box were still on the coffee table, their depictions making the current conversation even worse.

“If what you imply is true –“ Potter whispered, taking Draco’s hand without looking up from the ground. “- then I don’t want to hide our relationship. I want to stand by your side as your partner, Malfoy. I _love_ you, you know.”  
Draco smiled. “I know. And I love you too. And… if you want that, then I want that too.”  
“Good. When do you want to do it?”  
“I don’t know. Tomorrow?”  
Potter’s smile was brilliant. “All right. We can’t really do an announcement, that’d be weird. What do you have in mind?”  
“Just something casual, right? No big fuss, no fireworks. Just something small that can’t be interpreted any other way.”  
“How about a kiss? Like, a peck good morning. Simple, but clear.”  
“I’d love that. We are actually going to do this?”  
“Absolutely. At least then, I’ll be able to go full-on Boy-Who-Lived on anyone who hurts you.”  
“I hate it that you are allowed to base your reputation on the war, and I can’t. I could protect you so well if people were still scared of me,” Draco complained.  
“Would it help if I told you I’m scared of you?”  
“Only if you do it publicly.”

They sat together for the rest of the evening, not really working and not really talking. Both were in their own worlds, thinking of what the ‘endgame’ could be and how they might halt it.

The next morning, Draco woke up feeling giddy. He poured himself in one of his fancier robes, which made him walk confidently and with flair. Phi commented on his happy mood, but attributed it to the fine weather out.

Walking into the Great Hall, knowing what was about to happen, made Draco fidget a bit. He saw Potter at the High Table looking at his plate. When they locked eyes, Potter blushed and looked away.

Potter didn’t make a move to stand up or greet Draco like they arranged. With a soft smile, Draco relaxed his shoulders and pecked Potter on the cheek before sitting down.

“Morning, Potter.”  
“Good morning,” Potter chuckled.  
“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be courageous?”  
“I was! I was just giving you a chance to back out!”  
“Right. If you say so.”

After a few seconds of staring at one another, Potter turned his gaze to his plate and picked up his fork. “Why are you staring at me?”  
“Because frankly, I’m terrified of seeing the reactions.”

Laughing, Potter let his eyes roam over the four tables and grinned. “It’s not so bad,” he concluded when returning to Draco.  
“No?” Draco then chanced a look himself.

The Gryffindors were loudly calling to James and Lily, asking them when it happened and how and why and whether they were going to marry. The Weasleys, Manila and Susanne were rolling their eyes, answering some questions as well and smiling widely at their Potter partners.

At the Hufflepuff table, Phi was seated, animatedly talking with the Hufflepuffs that wanted to listen, and winking broadly when he saw Draco looking at him. His eyes shone and his hair was green. If that was all Draco would see from him for the rest of his life, he would be a happy man.

Aquila and Matias on the Ravenclaw table were less busy with people questioning everything. Lazarus was scowling heavily, but many Ravenclaws had already distanced themselves from him. There wasn’t much buzz with the eagles, but they congratulated Aquila if they were on good terms with her, and waved at the Slytherin table. Matias caught Draco’s gaze and gave him a thumbs-up, after which he turned back to Aquila and joined in the conversation.

When Draco’s eyes reached the Slytherin table, he broke out in laughter. Scorpius gave a sign to the rest of the House, and they all stood up, facing the High Table. Every student from other Houses were watching them now.

“One, two, three, four,” Scorpius counted down. Reaching four, every Slytherin jumped on the benches, threw their arms in the air and started yelling victoriously. Some Slytherins had to stop in order to catch their breaths from laughing so hard, but Scorpius, Albus and Cassie continued for a long time. At a certain point, some Slytherins started chanting some rhythmic thing that Draco vaguely recognised. Only after Cassie chanted along, he picked up enough to realise that they had put the Slytherin verse of the Sorting Hat Song in a chant.

 _“Perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You’ll make your real friends_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends_ ”

Draco ducked his hand to hide the ridiculous smile that was threatening to take over his face. After a moment, he looked at his colleagues to see some of them with eyebrows raised to their hairline and some of them with a smug smirk. McGonagall was suppressing a smile, but didn’t succeed entirely. Neville, seated on the other side of the table, waved, winked and smiled, obviously happy that they were now in a public relationship.

With the Owl Post came the weekly letter from Narcissa, and Draco took that as an opportunity to write his parents and friends a small note on the new development, so they wouldn’t be taken by surprise if _The Daily Prophet_ decided to print another article.

It had been a good call, to inform their friends of it, since the article that was published, occupied two pages, including pictures.

**_“Boy-Who-Lived and Death Eater in a relationship: CONFIRMED_ **

_\- by Anonymously Observant, our regular anonymous journalist_

_Ladies and gentlemen. What we feared, has come true. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are now officially in a relationship. Yesterday morning, Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and gave his – boyfriend? Partner? Husband? – a kiss good morning, confirming the rumours around them to be true._

_At the beginning of this year, both Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter were hired as professors at Hogwarts. Mr. Malfoy has become Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House. Mr. Potter now teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts._

_However, we can safely say that Mr. Potter is no longer immune to Dark wizards!_

_For those who do not know the history of these two gentlemen, I will recapitulate. Mr. Potter is the son of James and Lily Potter, who died young, killed by Voldemort, as they actively tried to fight him. Voldemort wanted to kill Mr. Potter, who was only a year old at the time, too, but failed; rumour says that Lily Potter’s love for her child protected him, since she sacrificed her own life in order to save her son’s._

_The address of Lily and James Potter was supposed to be a secret to protect them from Voldemort. However, one of their childhood friends, Peter Pettigrew, ratted them out and blamed Sirius Black, Mr. Potter’s godfather, for the murder of their friends. Sirius Black was then sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, but managed to escape the heavily guarded prison. Sirius Black died in the Second Wizarding War at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange, his aunt._

_Mr. Potter lived with his Muggle aunt and uncle, raised without any knowledge of the Wizarding World. At Platform 9 ¾, he met the Weasley family, the family that would adopt him. His best friend, Ron, is the youngest son of this family. The sole daughter, Ginevra – or rather, Ginny – is the mother of Mr. Potter’s children._

_Together with Ron Weasley and Minister of Magic Hermione Granger-Weasley, Mr. Potter has hunted for several horcruxes of Voldemort’s soul, in order to kill him. Mr. Potter has said many times that he was sure to be dead if he hadn’t had his two best friends, ‘who are family, even without genetic or matrimonial bonds’. Ron Weasley now runs one of the most successful shops in Wizarding Britain with his older brother, George, where they sell ‘props for pranks, gifts for gags and jellies for jives’._

_Mr. Potter got three children, James, Albus and Lily, but divorced of his wife Ginny Weasley at the same time as stating that he was homosexual. Ginny is now engaged to be married to Dean Thomas, another friend of Hogwarts, who she had had a short flirt with before she and Mr. Potter became attached. [continue on page four]._

_Mr. Malfoy is the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy sided with Voldemort during the First Wizarding War, and quickly became his right hand. Mr. Malfoy was raised with the pureblood ideals of his parents. During the war, Mr. Malfoy was tasked with killing former Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore, and keeping a strict eye on Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy got the Dark Mark when he was sixteen years old, together with many of his fellow Slytherins. In the final battle, Mr. Malfoy disappeared with two friends, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. Vincent Crabbe died at some point, but the exact circumstances are unknown to the public._

_After the war, Mr. Malfoy was tried by the Wizengamot. During this trial, Mr. Potter spoke in his favour, resulting in the Malfoys walking free with only a few fines as punishment. Mr. Malfoy and his mother have been trying to give a positive twist to their family name, by donating to the right causes and meeting the right people. Narcissa Malfoy-Black is part of the S.P.E.W. organisation, led by Minister Granger, and has contributed to many charity events._

_Mr. Malfoy married to sister of Slytherin classmate Daphne Greengrass, Astoria. They got four children. Their oldest two, a twin, are Scorpius and Aquila, of which Scorpius is a Slytherin and Aquila was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Then comes Cassiopeia, and lastly son Ophiuchus. Scorpius is best friends with Mr. Potter’s son Albus._

_Two years ago, Mr. Malfoy divorced of Astoria Greengrass and took full custody of their children. Narcissa Malfoy-Black was aunt of Sirius Black, Mr. Potter’s godfather, and sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, who was rumoured to have an affair with Voldemort himself, and is single-handedly responsible for many murders, including the murder of her cousin Sirius Black._

_Mr. Malfoy is in many ways connected to Mr. Potter, either because they were on completely different sides during the war, or because of their family bonds. Most of these connections, however, have been that Mr. Malfoy received some kind of favour from Mr. Potter._

_Since they used to be on unpleasant terms, and Mr. Malfoy never made a statement about his sexuality, this anonymous observer is curious as to how and why they are now in a relationship. I have said it before, and I will say it again, but I am worried. Worried for Mr. Potter’s health, for his children and for the Wizarding World. Has Mr. Malfoy truly been converted from his old ways, or does he still believe in the pureblood ideals? And how coincidental is it that he took a position at Hogwarts in the same year as Mr. Potter did?_

_Very importantly, Mr. Malfoy has only just been spoken free of his latest trial. Four weeks ago, he was arrested for having mistreated and abused his children. At the trial, various sources, classmates of his children and his ex-wife among others, testified against him. The Wizengamot all voted against him, with the exception of Minister Granger. She was convinced of Mr. Malfoy’s innocence, causing the rest of the Wizengamot to re-evaluate. In the confusion, oldest son Scorpius took the stand and testified in his father’s favour. In the end, Mr. Malfoy walked free._

_There is reason to wonder why Minister Granger believes in Mr. Malfoy’s innocence. Is it because he is truly innocent, or does Mr. Malfoy have a hold over Mr. Potter that is even more dangerous than we think, and did Minister Granger vote in order to save her friend?_

_Much more is to say about this relationship, but not much more space is available. Therefore, I will end it here, but I promise you –as always- that new information will be published as soon as possible. If you have hints, you may send it to_ The Daily Prophet _, and it will be sent through to me. Anonymity will be guaranteed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sooooo. More angst 'n shit.
> 
> Also, I couldn't help myself: I had to say 'Potter partners' at least once during this story.


	49. The Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being late again. It's Thursday instead of Wednesday, and I apologise.
> 
> However, I am on a week-long holiday in Italy, so you have to imagine that I am on a holiday and I brought my laptop with me *just* so I could bring you your chapter. I hope I am forgiven now.

On May 2nd, there was a memorial service at Hogwarts – and at many other places in Wizarding Britain. The memorial at Hogwarts was led by Minerva, as it was every year. It was twenty-two years ago now, and the period of grieving had not yet ended.

At lunch time, Minerva gave a speech about acceptance, forgiveness and unity. The students listened politely, but didn’t realise it was also meant for them. There were only a few, mostly students whose parents had played a famous or infamous role in the war, who nodded gravely and sat quiet. Phi was curled into Draco’s arms, hiding his face in Draco’s shirt. Cassie, Scorp and Aquila were stood somewhat apart from the other students, closer to Draco, with James, Albus and Lily nearby. 

Potter’s hand was tightly wrapped around Draco’s waist. There was an exorbitant amount of eyes on them, most of them glancing every now and then, but others just plainly staring. The few journalists that were present, had a camera unflinchingly pointed at them, and one that switched between Minerva and the students.

One of them might be the anonymous reporter of _The Daily Prophet_ , Draco realised. There was a chance that there would be another article about them tomorrow. The thought made Draco stand up straighter, self-conscious, and flick his gaze to his children. They seemed all right, albeit a little awkward.

Scorpius had decided that he would become a Malfoy-Potter as well, just like his siblings. Some old rules of the Malfoy heritage stated that the name used for estate business, always needed to be the single last name ‘Malfoy’. For personal business, however, Draco had changed it to the double name some weeks ago. Then, Scorpius, as oldest son and thus heir of the Malfoy estates in the United Kingdom, had had to choose: stay a Malfoy, or become a Malfoy-Potter with the possible risk of losing his heritage. It took him a while, but eventually, he chose for the double name. Now all Draco had to do, was find a way around the rule stating that the Malfoy heir may not have a double name.

But that didn’t matter at the moment, because Minerva was finishing off her speech with the names of all Hogwarts students that had died during the Battle. Draco loved her for not neglecting to name those students with a Dark Mark, even though they had obviously been in the wrong. Draco also loved Potter for the soft squeeze he gave when Vincent’s name was said.

After the speech, there were two minutes of silence, during which Minerva took her wand and spelled the ceiling of the Great Hall dark. Everyone was in their own little world for that moment; Potter was desperately closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, fighting against the images flooding his mind. Lily was fidgeting with her wand, nervous twitches of her fingers, as she felt the tension in the room build, but couldn’t do anything about it. James hugged Suzanne close and kissed her temple in order to have something to do. Aquila was standing with Matias, Manila and the Weasleys, looking at the ground, with a frown on her face. Scorpius and Albus were stood with their backs straight and chin up, arms around each other as if to dare people to disapprove of their friendship. And Cassie had still not recovered entirely from her month without sleep, and was swaying on her feet until Jackie steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

The small touch of Jackie almost meant more to Draco than Minerva’s entire speech. Jackie had separated herself from the other students in order to stay with Cassie, while she hadn’t missed an opportunity to insult Draco right after her parents had been caught.

Her parents were still in holding, still unknowing of their sentence, but it seemed that Jackie was over it and had forgiven Draco for it. It was nice to know that she was all right, and that she might just become a friend for Cassie. Merlin knows Cassie might need it, especially if Draco and Potter were right, and if there was someone coming after Draco.

Again, Draco was made aware of the journalists present, who were now moving towards him and Potter, as Minerva’s speech was over. Potter tightened his arm around Draco’s waist, frowning, and turning to run to his apartment. Minerva caught Draco’s eyes and managed to keep the journalists away from them long enough so that Potter and he could disappear inside, where the journalists weren’t allowed. Phi stayed with his siblings.

“Malfoy,” Potter began as they ascended the stairs to his apartment. “Before you were taken into custody, I had taken a day off to take you out for an outing. We could do it now, if you want to? The afternoon lessons are cancelled anyway.”  
“What kind of outing?”  
“Well, I had planned something to do with the children, but now I thought of something else, and I think it’s better if the children stay home. But I would really like to show you something.”  
Draco smiled. “Of course. Let me just write a note to the little monsters, and I’ll follow you.”

He left Potter to grab his things, and went to the dungeons to write a note for Phi to find. He saw Potter standing at the doors to the Great Hall, peering outside to where the journalists were still gathered.

“I think it’s better if we take a sneak route to Hogsmeade,” Potter chuckled. He conjured the Marauder’s Map from his backpack and led the way underground to Honeydukes. Draco kept trying to catch glances of the map he had heard so much about, until Potter rolled his eyes and handed the map over.

“Thanks,” Draco smirked, taking in every detail of such a wonderful artefact.  
“No problem. Hey, I wanted to ask, when we met at the Ministry cells…”  
“Yes?”  
“I told you that Cassie went to see Ron in Hogsmeade almost every day, and then you implied that Cassie was in possession of the Map, right?”  
“Yes, because you didn’t know how she could have gotten there, and you had told her that this map existed, so I was pretty sure Cassie used it to get to Hogsmeade. And I was right, because you couldn’t find your map in your backpack.”  
Potter laughed. “It turned out to be in the front pocket of my backpack, which I saw before I got back to school.”  
“And is it _ever_ in the front pocket?”  
“I do that sometimes, yeah. When I had to put it away quickly because there were people coming. So my question is, how could she get her hands on the Map if I’ve got it with me all the time?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco stood still to look at some older brickwork in interest, before moving again. “She is a Slytherin, Potter. A Slytherin-Gryffindor mix. She can get her hands on anything without anyone noticing. And if that’s not enough, she’s a Malfoy, so she can talk everyone into helping her.”  
“I don’t believe that. I would have noticed if anyone had been rummaging in my backpack. There is personal stuff in there.”  
“All right, let me reconstruct how I think it happened,” Draco started. His gaze turned distant as he tried to focus on Cassie’s way of thinking.

“You told her about the Marauder’s Map, and you told her that it was made by your father and godfather, and she was curious, so you told her everything you know about those four friends. You stressed their reputation as prankers, and as immensely intelligent people, and you told her that they were already Animagi in their third year, to prove your point of how smart they were. Then, you said that the Weasley twins gave the Map to you, and that they had found out how to use it. She stored all this information for later use. She also realised that it must be with your personal belongings, as you shouldn’t let this Map lying around somewhere, and as it was your father’s creation. One day, she hides in your apartment until you’ve either gone to mine, or until you’ve gone to bed. She then finds the backpack, fishes out the Map, and starts studying it. The most important things, she makes sure she remembers, like a secret route to Hogsmeade, and some good hiding places in the dungeons. And then, she replaces it, sneaks out of your room, and starts looking for the entrance to this secret route, after which she will never forget it, and she won’t need your Map anymore.”

Potter nodded, impressed. “Sounds plausible. Except for the fact that I only mentioned the Map twice, and never elaborated on who made it or how it got in my possession. Besides, it’s near impossible to sneak into my room. Magical barriers, Malfoy.”  
“If you mentioned the Map only once, it would be enough, because she would still realise you would keep it close at all times. She would have some more difficulty with finding out how it works, but she’ll have managed. Also, you would only have to let her in once, and she would be able to undo the wards.”  
“I don’t believe that. These barriers are meant to keep out journalists and unwanted visitors. There is no way a twelve-year-old can undo them.”  
“Cassie is no regular twelve-year-old. She is highly capable of unlocking charms and she is extremely sensitive to magic. She would have felt what kind of spells were placed, and she only needs a couple of days to undo them all.”  
“That’s not possible.”  
“Potter, you are forgetting that Cassie can see my memories. I fixed the Vanishing Cabinet. I found the Room of Requirement. I knew where the monster in second year was hiding. She has seen all these things in her dreams. She has more magical experience than anyone her age, because of my memories. Combine that with my ability to see the smallest details and find the best-hidden secrets, and you’ll have someone that can open a door with a twitch of her fingers.”

Potter took the Map from Draco and folded it shut, mumbling the incantation to make it a blank piece of parchment, as they were nearing Hogsmeade.

“Get ready to Side-Along, Malfoy. We’ll be Apparating the moment we walk out the tunnel,” he warned. He pushed open the door, let Draco walk out, and grabbed his arm, not losing a moment before he turned on his heel and they were gone.

“In a hurry?” Draco asked laughingly.   
Potter smiled back. “No, I just didn’t want to be in danger of anyone seeing us. Not before we get to our destination. I don’t want a hassle.”  
“You’re worrying me.”  
“Oh no, don’t. It’s nothing bad, I just… It’s not a happy place to be. You’ll see in a moment.”

They walked over a small path, lined with high grasses, which blocked the view to the right and the left. Right before the path rounded in the direction of a tree, Potter stopped Draco and stood in front of him.

“We talked about this, a few months ago. I don’t know whether you will appreciate it, but I thought you should at least have gotten the chance to see it. Don’t… don’t get angry.”

As Draco frowned, Potter disappeared around the corner. Draco followed him, of course he did, with some reluctance.

He hadn’t expected this to have been their outing. He also didn’t quite know how he felt about Potter taking him here, but he was certainly not angry. How could he, if Potter had taken him to see Severus’s grave?

“You said you hadn’t been allowed to his funeral, and you weren’t allowed to know where his grave was, because the Ministry had been afraid that it would somehow become a headquarters for the new generation of Death Eaters. I thought that was nonsense, so I brought you here. You should be able to say goodbye to him one last time. Or visit him more often, if you’d like,” Potter spoke softly.

Draco stared at the grave. It was right under the tree, just a simple gravestone, nothing more. There were seeds from the tree all over his grave. The stone read his name, date of birth and date of death, but nothing more.

“Why is he here?” Draco asked.  
“I used to think it was because the Ministry wanted him hidden from view, but now I know that he had said so in his testimony. This was where he wanted his last resting place to be.”  
“What’s so important about this place?”

Potter hesitated, but at Draco forlorn gaze, he sighed. “Snape was in love with my mother,” he whispered.  
“I know,” Draco frowned. “What does that have to do with this?”  
“You _knew_? How?”  
“Long story. I’ll tell you some other time.”  
“O-Okay. Well, he was in love with my mother. They knew each other before Hogwarts and this is where they first met. He wanted this to be where he was buried.”  
“I never knew that Severus could be so sentimental.”  
Laughing, Potter threw an arm around Draco’s shoulders. “What would he think if he knew about us?”

Extracting himself from Potter’s arms, Draco went to wipe off the seeds and clean the gravestone a bit.

“He knew before he died, Potter.”

It took a while before Potter understood what Draco meant, but even then, he frowned uncomprehendingly. “Do you mean you were in love with me before the war even?”  
“No. But Severus knew… things. And he had a theory, which, if I may say, has been proven correct many times already, and the theory was also about us.”  
“What was his theory? Opposites attract? Or Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships or something?”  
“No. It’s about my Patronus. I… well, it’s rather fatalistic, but I think there is some truth in it.”

Potter frowned, sitting next to Draco on the ground. “Do you want to tell me?”  
“I want to show you. But I have to decide whether I’ll tell the story before or after I show you.”

Draco twirled his wand around, but then put it down and readied himself for a story.

“All right. So. Severus told me this story, and his theory was based on that. The story helped me during the war. He once knew a boy, who had fallen in love with a girl. When they were old enough to create Patronuses, he was pleasantly surprised by his own Patronus, as it was the same as the girl’s. He thought it meant they were alike and that they fit well together. However, the girl fell in love with someone else. This second guy’s Patronus was the male version of the girl’s Patronus. The boy thought that they would never make it work, because their Patronuses were different and they must clash at some point, wouldn’t they? However, the boy was wrong. The girl and her guy were made for each other. He became jealous and bitter, and only managed to forgive the girl when he understood what the Patronuses actually meant.

“The point of the story was, that two animals of the same gender, often become competitive, in an unhealthy way. They fight for the best mate, or the best food, or the best shelter. While two animals of different genders complement each other. One protects, the other feeds. One finds shelter, the other finds the best environment to live in. It’s like yin and yang, like sun and moon. Two counterparts that interact and create the best situation for themselves. If two individuals are so alike, they will eventually hurt one another. They don’t fit right. It’s a counterpart they are looking for, someone that can balance them out. Shy people need someone to bring them out of their shell, loud people need someone to calm them.

“So, the first boy would never have had a chance with the girl, because they were too alike. The second guy, _he_ was the counterpart. The girl was drawn to him, and would choose him over the first boy, because he was what she needed. Counterparts will always choose each other, because they need their balance.”

When Draco was silent for a long amount of time, Potter looked at their joint hands and tried to understand where this story was going. He didn’t speak though, because he felt Draco wasn’t finished yet.

“On the other hand,” Draco continued, in a softer voice. “Counterparts aren’t so different. They need to have common ground. An elephant and a mouse don’t go well together, even though they are counterparts. However, a male and a female of the same kind _are_ compatible. Perhaps more compatible than two females of the same kind.”

“That sounds like a heap of heteronormative bullshit,” Potter cut in, uncomfortable with the turn it had taken.

“Shut it. It’s not about gender. It’s about compatibility. As I was saying, a male and a female are compatible, because they balance each other out, most often. They are drawn to each other like no other pair. It is inevitable. And therefore, relationships between male and female – or relationship between highly compatible counterparts – can’t be stopped. Whatever there is between them, can’t be surpassed by relationships between two individuals that are too alike. Counterparts will… are unstoppable, and it is no one’s fault that the counterparts choose each other. It can’t be helped.”

Then, Draco took his wand, sighed deeply and made a slow movement. With closed eyes and his other hand tightly squeezing Potter’s, he mumbled ‘ _Expecto Patronum_ ’.

The blue light shooting from his wand took some time before it became corporeal, as Draco kept his eyes closed and clenched his fist. When he opened his eyes and covered his frowning expression with a pleased one, the light moved some more and showed a large, wonderful Patronus.

At least, it was wonderful to Potter. He still didn’t know exactly what the point of the story had been, but he felt elated just watching Draco’s Patronus unfold.

“I realised only after Severus’s death that the story had been about him and your parents.”  
“Why did he tell you?”  
“Because,” Draco gestured at the graceful doe in front of them. “I had to know what it meant. I knew your Patronus was a stag, and I wondered whether it was a message to me, that I had your counterpart. And then the Snatchers had gotten to you, and I had to decide whether I would help you or them… I remembered this story and I knew that I should help you. I couldn’t let you die. Does don’t let stags die, no matter what. We were connected, whether we wanted to or not, and I knew it must have been because of that moment. That one moment where I had your fate in my hands, and consequently, the fate of Wizarding Britain. That one moment where I could choose between life or destruction, between balance and chaos. I chose balance, Potter, and I’ll never regret it. In my entire life, I have had only one real choice, and that was it. Everything else was only preparation.”

They remained quiet for a while, until Potter smiled at the doe and leant against Draco’s shoulder. “So you are the balance to my chaos, huh?”  
Draco chuckled. “Well, you certainly are the chaos to my carefully planned balance. I hate you.”  
“I know, Malfoy. I love you too. Though, our Patronuses, would that explain the way we always have been acting towards each other?”  
“Perhaps. I have no idea whether Severus’s theory is correct, or whether it has any merit to it, but the story helped me through the war. It helped me make my decisions, like not saying that it was you, and not letting Vincent kill you. Whether it’s true or not, doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that we’re here now, alive and well.”  
“And happy.”  
“And happy. Very happy.”  
“So you think that Snape already knew we were going to end up together?” Potter wondered softly.  
“He knew that we could rely on one another. And whether that was in a relationship, as friends, or from a distance, it wouldn’t matter. But I guess that he thought I would end up falling in love with you, ever since he knew I was bisexual,” Draco grinned.  
“When did he find out? Did you come out to him? And how did he find out about your Patronus?”  
“Well… as we have established, I had a teeny tiny crush on George. Severus was one of the most observing man I know, and he noticed quite quickly that my obsession with the Weasley twins wasn’t hateful. He walked up to me one day and just plain said that if I ever wanted to be happy, I should accept who I was and who I wanted to be with. Then he pushed a chocolate frog in my hands and strode away.”

Potter laughed. “Who was on the card?”  
“You were, actually, but I don’t like to think about the coincidence. Anyway. I managed my first corporeal Patronus during the summer between third and fourth year, right after you did. I was pretty secretive about it, I told no one. In sixth year, after the bathroom incident, I hated you so much, I thought that my Patronus may have changed. There could be no way that we were counterparts, if you had just done that to me, right? But it hadn’t changed, and I was livid. I started screaming and sending my Patronus this way and that, until I was magically exhausted. Severus found me in the garden of the Manor, with a doe Patronus staring at me. He gave me another chocolate frog that day, and before you ask who was on the card, it was you again and I hate you.”

Grinning, Draco waved his wand so his Patronus faded away. “Though, nowadays, I think that my Patronus isn’t necessarily a doe because of you. It may be a doe because of Severus. I wanted to be like him, you know, only a bit better liked, if possible. I wanted to be as brave as he was, with being a double spy. I thought he was the bravest man on Earth for admitting his mistake as a Death Eater, and trying to make up for it in the second war. He was, in some ways, my role model.”

“Even though he wasn’t a good man?”  
“He was a good enough man. I’m not much better than he is, to be honest. So yes, even though he wasn’t a good man.”

Potter smiled softly, standing up to look at the gravestone again. “He did choose a beautiful place.”  
“Yes, he did. He chose well.”  
“Come on. Let’s go to Diagon, I want to visit Hannah.”

They walked away from Severus’s grave, Draco with a heavy feeling in his stomach. He addressed it to the memories of his mentor and the conversation they had just had, but deep down inside, he knew that it was something else. Something was happening, and Draco was very eager to ignore the warning voice in his head and follow Potter’s beatific smile to the end of the Earth.

At Diagon, they popped into Hannah’s little pub, where the Mrs. Longbottom was just serving a group of older men. It was quiet still, as it was only early afternoon and a Wednesday, and Memorial Day of the Battle, and not many people were out and about on the streets. Potter and Draco enjoyed a glass of wine each and an ice cream, before they headed out.

Walking along the shops, they stared at the new Quidditch supplies – Draco decided to buy the fan shirt of Potter’s favourite Quidditch player when the shop was open again – and appreciated the fancy notebooks in office supply shops. Eventually, Potter pulled Draco to the Wheezes. It was closed as well, but beside the main entrance was a door that led to Ron and George’s office.

George opened for them, greeting them heartily with a hug and a smile, and a wink for Draco.

“When will you stop thinking you can seduce me, Weasel?” Draco asked in mock-annoyance.  
George laughed. “Never, since I already seduced you. Join me, instead of Harry. I’m much more fun!”  
“I don’t doubt that. However, you are married with children and have made it quite clear that my gender does not have your preference. So I’ll stick with Potter here, yeah?”  
“Is that the only reason you stick with me?” Potter gasped. “Just to be closer to George?”  
“Nah, also to be closer to Charlie. But you understand, don’t you? Since you have an undeniable crush on our dear dragon-boy,” Draco stated with a challengingly raised eyebrow.

“Hold on, _what_? Does Harry have a crush on Charlie? No way!” George grinned.  
Potter glared at Draco. “Was this necessary?”  
“If I’m going to be embarrassed with my Weasley-crush, so are you. We’re going down together.”  
“Ginny does look like Charlie,” George mused. “Out of all of us, she resembled Charlie most. Dear Merlin, Harry, do you have any idea how weird this is?”  
“Yes, I do. Can we change the subject now? Like to how head over heels Draco still is for you? How he can’t stop staring at you and blushing when you look at him?”

Draco and George shared a look, before turning to Potter and simultaneously saying ‘No, we can’t.’ George took a kettle of water off the fire and placed three mugs on his desk. Potter took a random teabag that looked nice and unsuspicious. After taking the first sip, his eyes widened and he hastened to spit out his tea, but it was too late. His nose became longer and longer, until it hung on the ground, making Potter step on it once.

“Give me an antidote right now,” Potter groaned, while Draco and George where doubling over in laughter. “Please.”

George shook his head, grabbed a camera from behind his desk to take a picture, before handing Potter a vial of nasty brown liquid.

“This picture is going to _The Prophet_ , I promise you,” George swore, looking at it again and again. Potter tried to take the picture away, but was surprised by a bear hug from Draco. If Potter hadn’t known that it was only a trick to give George time to put the picture away, he would have liked the sudden attention.

“It’s time to go, I think, if you are ganging up on me,” Potter announced. “I’ll see you later, right George? We’ll owl.”  
“Sure. See you, mate. Draco, come here, give me a hug. That’s it. Enjoy your day, and ignore everyone who’s being annoying, yeah?”  
“I always do, don’t I?” Draco grinned.  
“No, but I mean, with today being Memorial Day. There is bound to be some extra frustration around you. Take care.”

George’s warning didn’t sit well with that voice in Draco’s head that had been uttering similar warnings all day, but Draco shrugged it off and stepped outside with Potter’s hand in his.

“Say hi to Ron for me!” Potter called over his shoulder as a last goodbye.

After rounding a corner and landing on one of the other streets, Draco pulled Potter closer and wound and arm around his waist. “You do know that I’m not just with you to get closer to George, right?"  
”Malfoy –“  
“Or because you are the Boy-Who-Lived. Or any reason other than you being you. You know that, don’t you?”  
“I do. I really do. You couldn’t pretend to like me if your life depended on it,” Potter smiled.  
“Good. I love you, and I hope you realise that.”  
“Same story here, Malfoy. I’m in it for the long haul.”

Draco opened his mouth to answer – probably something about Potter being a sap, or an insult to his hair – but he was interrupted by a shout and a stinging pain to his chest. Potter turned around to see where the shout came from, a reflex from his time as an Auror, and consequently didn’t see Draco falling on the ground, clutching a hand to his chest. Time seemed to slow down as Draco writhed and squirmed, trying to get away from the pain, but not succeeding.

“Malfoy!” Potter shouted. He kneeled beside him, worry etched in his face. “Malfoy, can you hear me?”  
“Mungo’s. Go to – Mungo’s, _now_ ,” Draco managed. The squeeze of Apparition made him breathless, as if his lungs were pressed vacuum. At St. Mungo’s, he was highly aware of how roughly he was being thrown onto a hospital bed, and how sharp the diagnostic spells actually felt.

“Mr. Malfoy, can you hear me? Answer me if you can.”  
“Yes, yes, I can,” Draco snarled. “Give me a pain potion, moron.”  
“The pain potion is being injected now, give it some time to settle, Mr. Malfoy. Can you describe what you feel?”  
“Is Potter here?”  
“No. I need you to tell me what you feel, before I can call him in again. He is outside.”

Draco nodded. “All right,” he sighed, feeling the pain potion settle and calm some of the burning in his chest. “Listen very carefully. I do not, under any circumstance, want you to tell Potter what I am going to tell you. Do you understand?”  
“Of course, sir. But are you sure –“  
“ _Yes_ , damn it! Do _not_ question my sanity, because there is nothing wrong with that. Now, listen. Do you see this Mark?” Draco rolled up his sleeve and stuck out his arm for the Healer to see. He saw that the Healer became uncomfortable, but he continued.

“People hate me for this, and I can’t blame them. However, today, and with the trials I just went through, there seems to be a target on my back. Someone attacked me with a curse that is extremely Dark and not very well-known. There is no countercurse, counterpotion or counterspell for it. There is nothing you can do.”  
“What is the curse?”  
“It is a curse that attacks the part of someone that is worth most to them. For sportsmen, it’s their muscles. For intellectuals, it’s their brain. For others, their memories, or their sight. It’s different for everyone. However, for some people, it’s their heart. It’s very rare, but it happens. Because a heart encompasses everything; soul, memories, life, love, movement, actions. At least, symbolically, it encompasses everything. I think, and everything I feel right now, that in my case, it’s the heart.”  
“And the effect of the curse?”  
Draco sighed. “The effect of the curse is that the body part you cherish most, will slowly degrade in functionality, until it doesn’t work anymore. The most torturous part is that it happens slowly. In my case, I will get worse and worse, and one after the other, my body parts will stop working, starting with my hands and feet. At a certain point, I will be so tired that I can only lie here and listen to things, until my heart is beating so slow that the blood flow as ceased, and I will die.”

“So we just need your heart to keep on beating. We have potions and spells for that,” the Healer said, scribbling furiously on a notepad.  
“The curse is smarter than that, madam. The only thing that would help, is a potion or spell that directly counters the curse. Reducing the symptoms won’t work, as the curse overrides all and every other spell or potion.”  
“How can you be so sure?”  
“I researched the curse very thoroughly when I was younger.”  
“Why would you do that?”  
Draco grimaced.

“Because I had to give Tom Riddle something so he wouldn’t kill my parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I guess that after the contents of this chapter, I am *not* forgiven anymore. Whoops. My hand slipped.


	50. Greg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late again, but you must be used to that now. I only returned from Tuscany on Sunday morning, and I'm leaving for camp tomorrow, a camp that I'm organising, so Sunday was dedicated to that, and the day after I return from the camp, I have two exams and an essay due, so this story wasn't one of my priorities.
> 
> But, here we are now.

The news of the attack on Draco spread rapidly. Greg didn’t get _The Daily Prophet_ himself, but the other members in the rehabilitation centre did. It was the talk of the day, how Draco had been attacked on Memorial Day, and how it was a curse that no one knew, and the Healers couldn’t counter. As soon as Greg heard about it, he asked his mentor whether he could go visit Draco in the hospital. He arranged to be picked up by Pansy, since members of the centre weren’t allowed to Apparate on their own. Blaise joined their party.

They were silent as they walked up to the appointment wing. _Unknown Magical Causes_ , the sign read. When the door opened, Pansy was the first to walk in, and she flung herself at Draco for a hug.

“Hiya, Pans,” Draco laughed. “Long time no see.”  
“Well, it’s your fault. You were too busy being taken into custody. I’m glad you’re out, though.”  
Blaise scoffed. “He would have been safer in the Ministry cells. This wouldn’t have happened there.”  
“Trust me, Blaise, I’d rather be here than in those cells with Whithal and Septimius interrogating me. Were you at my trials?”  
“No. We, ehm. We weren’t allowed.” At Draco’s frown, Greg continued. “We wanted to come, we were there, but the Aurors stopped us. Said that it was for our own safety. That they couldn’t guarantee they could protect us, if we were to be seated amidst the rest of the audience. They sent us on our way.”  
“Hmm. Well then. I assume you heard all about it?”  
Pansy grinned. “The children kept us informed during your holding, and Aquila wrote us a letter with a detailed description of the trial. The courage of Scorpius to do something like that! Where did he learn to be so sneaky?”  
“I don’t know. I believe it’s Lily’s influence. She is quite sharp, you know.”

A heavy silence fell, in which Greg was staring at Draco with wide eyes and a tense posture.

“You don’t look ill,” Greg finally commented.  
Draco smirked. “That’s because I’m unnaturally handsome.”  
“Draco,” Pansy warned.  
“All right, sorry. It’s only been a couple of hours, and the effect hasn’t taken place yet. There was some burning right after I was hit, but it has ceased now.”  
“Why would the pain cease? Aren’t you supposed to be suffering? Why else would anyone attack you?”  
“When the pain is gone, it means that the curse has fully settled and it will take effect soon enough. The pain isn’t what will make me suffer. I won’t be in any pain at all.”  
Blaise sat down on one of the chairs at the window. “What exactly is the curse? Because _The Prophet_ didn’t know, and you’re lying in the _Unknown_ wing, so why do you know what will or won’t happen?”  
“It’s a little-known curse with no counterspells, so I thought I wouldn’t bother anyone with the specifics. Only my Healer knows.”  
“How do you know it?”  
“How do I know a little-known, extremely Dark curse with torturing effects?” Draco asked sarcastically. His expression softened when he saw the way his three friends flinched. “I’m sorry. But yeah, I know it because of him. There’s a long story behind it, one I won’t bother you with. Just… sorry.”  
Pansy nodded. “Will it kill you? The curse?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well. How long will it take?”  
“I don’t know. A month? Two? Not much longer, I’m sure. Long enough to make preparations and say goodbye properly.”

Sitting on the side of Draco’s bed, Pansy took his hand and stroked it with her thumb. “Quite pathetic, isn’t it?”  
“What?”  
“You’ve been through a war and its aftereffects, without as much as a scratch, and now, more than twenty years later, something as pathetic and small as a stupid curse will make an end of your life.”  
“It would have been worse if I had fallen of the stairs and broke my neck,” Draco remarked dryly. “At least now, I have some kind of cool story around my death.”  
“You shouldn’t joke about it,” Greg mumbled. “I’ll miss you so much.”  
“Don’t. I’ll make sure to write down my best recipes, so you can make them yourself. Then I’ll always be with you.”

Blaise laughed. “That’s a pretty good idea. Please write out those recipes. I need your banana-spice soufflé like I need my oxygen.”  
“That reminds me, I baked another one. It’s in my apartment at Hogwarts, so you’ll have to owl my children for it. Personally, I think the batter was the best I ever made.”  
“You say that for every soufflé you make.”  
“That’s because I keep getting better. Anyway. How is rehab, Greg?”  
Greg smiled. “It’s okay. My mentor says I’m doing well. He wants me gone by next December.”  
“Congratulations! Have you decided what you might be doing after that?”  
“Well, I’m following workshops on how to print papers, so perhaps I’ll do something with that.”  
“Good, good. Luna – Lovegood, you know? – could perhaps take you in for an internship, if you would like to get some hands-on experience,” Draco offered, making Pansy giggle.

“I never would have thought to hear you speak so fondly of Luna,” she explained. “Never thought you might recommend her for _anything_.”  
“Ever since I raised a Ravenclaw daughter, I grew more understanding of the Ravenclaw mind. And although Luna is still the weirdest, craziest and most incomprehensible person I know, she’s a good one. Aquila exchanges letters with her on a monthly basis.”  
“Aquila exchanges letters with everyone on a monthly basis,” Blaise commented.  
Pansy nodded. “That’s true. Every first Tuesday of the month, I receive a letter from her. Not always just as long or as interesting, but always asking about my hobbies and my friends. She is the sweetest girl.”  
“I raised them well, didn’t I,” Draco stated, grinning. “Merlin, they just make me so happy.”  
“I remember a time that your children mostly just caused you trouble. In the last few years with Astoria. It’s a welcome change to see them and you like this. Relaxed. Easy.”

Greg hummed in agreement with Blaise. “Lately, there haven’t been many stories about Cassie running around and breaking things. Has she calmed somewhat?”  
“Dear Godric, no. She is now breaking other people’s bones. She gets in fights almost every day since the trials, and I can’t imagine it getting less now that I’m in here.”  
“How bad she must feel. She only just recovered from that month with you in custody, and now you’re attacked. Have they been told already?”  
“Perhaps. What time is it? I guess Potter will tell them after dinner, after he has spoken to Minerva. I hope he can keep them from falling apart.”  
“Quite. Scorpius seemed on his breaking point, when I last spoke to him.”  
“Aquila is even worse off. She managed a corporeal Patronus the week before my trials, and had it speak to me. She isn’t doing as well as everyone seems to think,” Draco sighed. “I wonder what she will be doing now. If she becomes an Animagus too, I think I’ll panic.”

Greg and Blaise shared a look. “Becomes an Animagus, _too_? Who else is one?”  
“Shit,” Draco chuckled. “I shouldn’t have told you. No one. I can’t tell you. Sorry.”  
“Never mind then. Let’s get to some more serious business. I have several questions.”

All three of them nodded and smiled sadly, taking a breath to prepare themselves for the following conversation. Draco rolled his eyes, but started fidgeting lightly with the covers of his bed.

“My first question is, what’s up? With the trials and now this attack, someone must have a target on your back. What’s going on?” Pansy started.  
“Someone wants me dead or out of society,” Draco shrugged. “It seems simple to me.”  
“Who then? Can it be Astoria?”  
“No, I don’t think so. Sure, she hates me, but she wouldn’t do anything that might harm her children.”  
Blaise scoffed. “Her children, yeah right. She just doesn’t want _Scorpius_ to be hurt.”  
“Whatever her motive, she wouldn’t attack me.”  
“But she testified against you at your trial. She isn’t on your side, darling. You have to understand that,” Pansy said gently.  
“I know, Pans, I’m not an idiot,” Draco grumbled. “But I also know that she wouldn’t hire someone to attack me. I’m sure it isn’t her.”  
“But who? I know you’re not the most liked person in this country, but people also don’t want to have blood on their hands. People don’t like to kill, Draco.”  
“This curse isn’t meant to kill. It’s meant to torture, and it’s just my stupid luck that it affects my heart instead of something like my hands. I doubt death was really the goal here.”

Pansy opened her mouth to protest again, but Greg cut in. “May I ask something? Do you remember that evening we hung out with Neville and the Gryffindors? You said something about being prepared for when you die.”  
“Yes! About being attacked, I remember,” Blaise supplied. “Why was that?”

Looking at the three curious and worried faces, Draco let out a deep breath. “I had a feeling.”  
“Bullshit. Tell us the real reason.”  
“No, really. I had a feeling that something was about to happen. I also had it right before I was hit with the curse.”  
“And you also said, at one of those evenings with Potter, that you might die sooner than expected,” Pansy frowned. “You tell us the truth right now, Draco, or I’ll call your mother.”

Draco laughed, but his eyebrows quickly pinched together. “I haven’t told Potter this.”  
“Then we won’t tell him either,” Greg promised.  
“I am being followed. Everywhere I go, there is someone in plain black robes, just looking at me. It’s always the same person. I can’t be sure, but… that’s what it feels like. It’s been like this for a while now. About two years or something.”  
“And you never told anyone?”  
“No. I thought, as long as I pretend I don’t notice them, it’ll be fine. Only this year, things got worse. Cassie started becoming more aggressive and sad, Phi morphed into Voldemort, the twins are told stories about me to make them hate me. Please don’t tell Potter about this.”

Greg took a few steps forward to give Draco a hard slap to his chest. “For the record, I hate you so much for not telling us. Do you have any idea in how much danger you may have been? And your children?”  
“I know, I know. I just –“  
“No excuses. Merlin, Draco. Do you have a death wish?”  
“ _No_ , Greg –“  
“You’re a bloody moron. At least tell us you’ve gotten a clear picture of this person’s figure or face or something.”

When Draco kept quiet, Greg groaned loudly. Pansy and Blaise mumbled something to each other, after which they opened the door and stepped out, leaving Greg and Draco to their own devices for a moment.

“So, let me summarise,” Greg said, sitting down heavily on Draco’s bedside. “You have been followed for the last two years by someone you don’t know anything about. You think your children may have been influenced by whoever this is. You were charged, and the trial was supposed to defeat you once and for all. When it didn’t, you were attacked by a curse that is meant to torture and not to kill, but in your case, it _will_ kill. Have I forgotten something?”  
Draco shook his head, urging Greg to continue. “Right. Let’s see what the rest of us have been up to these two years. I have been addicted to drink and gambling for three years now. It may be connected to that, since you were the one that made it possible for me to pay my debts and keep my enemies at bay. Blaise has been working with Theo as a real estate agent at one of the largest offices in London. Chances are that he doesn’t have anything to do with this. Pansy doesn’t do anything, so she’s out of the picture as well. Anyone else?”

Taking a sip from his glass of water, Draco thought about it. “Mother has been in the S.P.E.W. board for two-and-a-half years. She wasn’t entirely welcome there at first. Now the board has accepted her, and most affiliates of S.P.E.W. as well, but there might be one or two that disapprove.”

“Right. Now, we need to find someone with connections at Hogwarts – to have influenced your children and perhaps other students -, connections with S.P.E.W. and connections in the gambling world. If we find someone like that, and that person has a motive to hate you, we know who to look out for. And you are a right idiot for not having told Harry this.”  
“I know.”  
“He was an Auror, Draco. If you gave him all the details, he would help you.”  
“That reminds me,” Draco started. “The person we’re looking for, must also have connections with the Auror department, and perhaps even with _The Daily Prophet._ ”  
“Right, that anonymous reporter of yours. _The Prophet_ says that it’s someone who works there permanently, with all the gossip and rumours of Wizarding Britain. They just never see this person, as they send their articles in by owl and never personally. Is he the one that has always been writing about you?”  
“No, there have been others. I am always in _The Prophet_ , but usually in a small article at the back of the puzzle pages.”  
“That means that a new reporter has taken an interest in you, and it’s not the same as always. Draco, I’m getting really worried. Are you sure it’s not Astoria?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m _sure_ , Greg. Astoria doesn’t have any influence in this world. The only influence she had, was when she was waving a check with the Malfoy name on it. She’s powerless.”  
“If you say so. I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

The sudden change of topic – and atmosphere – had Draco closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Greg. There really isn’t much I can do about it.”  
“I know. I just wish people would stop seeing the Mark only. If only they knew how much you do for people you care about. How much you’ve done for Hogwarts.”  
“What do you know about what I’ve done for Hogwarts?” Draco asked, snapping his eyes open, searching Greg’s face for any indication of what he might know.

Greg smirked. “Everything. I know that you paid double the amount of your fines, half of which went to Hogwarts for rebuilding purposes. I know that you sent books and letters with spells to get rid of Dark magic, and potions for Healing. I know you have been able to open hallways and rooms that had been closed for centuries, and that can now be used as offices or storages. How did you even do that?”

“Benefits of coming from a pureblood family with a long history at Hogwarts. Thousands of family books with Hogwarts secrets are in our library. In the restricted section, of course.”  
“Your family is idiotic.”

Smiling softly, Draco touched Greg’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him. “If it means anything to you, I would miss you as well, if you were to die.”  
“Of course it means a lot to me. Draco, for a long time, you were the only one I could really trust. There aren’t many that have seen, heard and done as much as we have. I liked to have someone I could talk to, if I wanted to. I know I haven’t been the best friend last three years, because I was always drunk, or broke, or hiding from people I owed money, and yet, you never let me down. I love you, in the most platonic way possible.”  
Draco chuckled. “I know. And, well, you were with my when I was at my worst. The least I could do, is return the favour. If only to honour Vincent.”  
“Merlin, it’s been so long since the war. We’ve changed so much. All of us. It’s ridiculous to realise how much time has passed and everything that has happened since then. You’re in a relationship with Harry James Potter now, who would’ve thought?” Greg grinned.  
“Do you know what my father said after Potter had gone for permission to court me?” Draco asked, smiling. “He said, and I quote: ‘Well, that explains your life-long obsession,’ and that was it! Never anything else. Every interaction Potter and I have ever had, are now being turned into some sappy love story of pining and repressed feelings. It’s idiotic.”

They laughed together, after which they became silent.

“Could you ask Pansy and Blaise to come back in?” Draco mumbled then. When his friends were all in the room again, he cleared his throat. “I need to ask a favour.”  
“Sure, Draco. Whatever you want,” Blaise answered gently.  
“It may sound odd, but I would really like it if we just… don’t talk about what is going to happen. Until I can’t move anymore, until I can only lie here and listen to what is being said, until it gets worse, I want – I want you to ignore my impending death. I want to have fun conversations, and I want us to pretend like nothing is wrong. If you can do that.”  
“That sounds like denial, and you know that’s not good.”  
“No, I know. But I don’t feel ill, and I don’t look ill yet. For now, everything should just be normal.”  
Pansy frowned. “If you don’t feel ill, why are you in the hospital? Are they going to release you?”  
“I already get tired if I stand up for a while, so no. I just don’t want us to make a big deal out of it as long as nothing is wrong.”

The three of them nodded, albeit Pansy was more than reluctant, and sat with Draco until it was time for them to leave. Greg shook Draco’s hand in goodbye, Pansy and Blaise both pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hold on. A few weeks back, a package was delivered at the Lodge, and Mother picked it up for me. Can you ask her to give it to my children and let it be put in my bedroom at Hogwarts?” Draco asked before the door closed behind his friends.

When they were out of the hospital, Pansy threw her bag to the ground and crossed her arms.

“He is going to push everyone away if we let him. He is going to be miserable. We have to do something.”  
“What do you want to do? He’s going to die anyway,” Blaise said crassly. Then he slumped his shoulders and mumbled an apology.  
“We should set up a visiting schedule, to make sure there isn’t a day that he is alone.”  
“No, he won’t like that. It’ll be too fake. You know he hates fake,” Greg protested. “Blaise is right, although his reasoning isn’t. We can’t do anything, except make sure that people don’t walk out on him. I think he needs reassurance that we’re still with him.”  
“We’re always with him. I would have thought he knew that by now.”

Pansy shrugged. “He is also insecure, and never believes people are actually his friends, so what Greg says, is correct. Should we warn people to not indulge him in his isolating ways?”  
“Perhaps. Potter is already aware, so that’s fine.”  
“And the Gryffindors wouldn’t let him push them away. They’re too _noble_ for that.”

They snickered, Pansy picked up her bag again and they walked to the designated Apparition point. “I just can’t believe he was attacked. I can’t imagine living without him at this point.”  
“I can’t imagine trusting someone else like I trust him,” Blaise groaned. “I don’t _want_ to trust anyone like I trust him. Why would anyone want to kill them?”  
“Well, if he’s right about the curse, it wasn’t meant to kill, just to torture. Do we even know which curse it is?”

Greg wrung his hands. “Yeah, I guess. I guess it’s something Riddle used to punish those Death Eaters that didn’t support him at his second coming. _Asthenos stenos_ , is the curse.” He quickly explained the effects of the curse. “It can’t be countered by any spell, curse or potion,” he said then.  
“How do you know? I mean, Draco always told us that _every_ spell could be countered, if one only worked hard enough.”  
“Yeah,” Greg coughed. “Except for this one, and an AK, of course.”  
“An AK can be countered by love, right? That’s what Draco also told us. It doesn’t always work on the victim, but it does on the person they try to protect. So if an AK can be countered, why not this stupid little curse?” Blaise complained.  
“Draco tried.”  
“What?” Pansy and Blaise chorused.  
“And failed. He knew that Riddle used this curse, and he spent all his free hours researching possibilities of a counterpotion or counterspell. And you know how good he is at magical theory. If even he is unable to find something, I don’t see how anyone else can.”  
“When did he research this?”  
“Fifth, sixth and seventh year. When he sat in the common room, to wait for people that might need him for their nightmares, he occupied himself with investigating and experimenting. He never found a solution.”

Pansy and Blaise fell silent, sadly staring at their feet as they had reached the Apparition point.

“Maybe he just didn’t have the right ingredients?” Pansy tried, desperately.  
“Maybe,” Greg agreed.

They all knew it wasn’t because of the ingredients.

“If I ever find out whoever is responsible for this, I’ll kill them,” Pansy stated.   
Blaise looked at her with a chuckle, but when he saw that she was entirely serious, his eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly from side to side. “No, Pans, don’t. You’ll only land in Azkaban. That’s the least of what Draco would want.”  
“Well, I don’t want him to die, and still he is.”  
“No, come on, don’t. Leave it to the Aurors.”  
“Yeah? The Aurors that investigated Draco ten years ago? Or the Aurors that charged him for mistreating his children?”  
Greg sighed. “Leave it to the Aurors that spoke at his trial, without even knowing him, but nonetheless knowing that he loves his children to pieces. There are good guys out there.”  
“One Auror can’t convince the entire department to hunt whoever is attacking Draco,” Pansy persisted.  
“And you can’t protect him by killing someone. It’ll only get worse. The things they’ll say about Draco – even after his death – will only get worse. Swallow your anger and use it to fuel your energy.”  
“Energy for what?”  
“For convincing the world that he is unjustly assaulted.”

Pansy let out a breath, forcibly relaxing her hands and pasting a smile for her friends. “All right. I’ll do my best.”  
“Good. Since when are you such a hot-headed Gryffindor?” Blaise joked to ease the tension.

They grinned at each other, glad that they could make jokes even in the worst of times. Above them, on the second floor, they saw the light curtains fluttering behind the open window of the third room to the right.

“I bet five sickles that Draco is doing his puzzles now,” Pansy said, offering up her hand for Greg and Blaise to slap on if they wanted to take the bet.  
“No way. He is reading some Muggle detective. I’ll bet ten,” Blaise challenged.  
Greg rolled his eyes. “Five sickles that he is just staring at the ceiling like the melancholy bastard he is.”

Pansy raised her eyebrows. “All right. Let’s see.” She took out an Extendable Eye – a new product of the Wheezes, since the Extendable Ear was so successful – and let it float up to Draco’s room. He was indeed staring, but rather at the window than at the ceiling. When he caught sight of the Eye, he laughed and waved them off, calling – loud enough for them to hear it downstairs – that they were idiots and he hated them.

“I was right, pay up,” Greg grinned.  
“You said ceiling, not window. I’m not paying you,” Blaise pouted.  
Punching Blaise in the arm, Pansy gave Greg three sickles instead of five, urging Blaise to give seven instead of ten. Greg stared at the money, clenched his fists and frowned.

“Maybe better if you keep this with you. I shouldn’t be betting. Sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry, mate, I’d rather keep these myself,” Blaise chuckled.  
“Sorry, Greg, I forgot about the betting thing. You’re doing well, though, refusing the money like that. I’m proud of you.”  
Greg smiled. “I’ve got a good motive to try and clean up. Draco has spent such a shitload of money on me, to keep me alive and well, that it would be a waste to ruin this chance. Especially now he’s in the hospital.”  
“None of us really deserves Draco,” Pansy pondered.  
“We deserve to be happy, though, don’t we?” Blaise countered. “And if Draco’s the one to do that…”  
“We’re a couple of saps. Come on, let’s not get miserable. We should probably go to Hogwarts to be there when the children are told. I’ll Side-Along you, Greg,” Pansy decided then.

They landed in Hogsmeade, striding to Hogwarts on the route they all knew so well. It was the first time Greg would set foot on Hogwarts grounds since the war, and Pansy had linked her arm through his, squeezing his hand from time to time to keep him from running.

Headmistress McGonagall was the first to see them, and she greeted them with a worried frown. “Harry told me. He’s just about to tell the children. If you go up to Draco’s apartment, you’ll find them. Neville is there as well.”

Pansy nodded, thanking her, and led Greg to Draco’s apartment in the dungeons. When they opened the door, the concerned expressions of the children turned hopeless.

“Just tell us what is going on,” Cassie begged. “First, Dad comes back without papa, and hides in McGonagall’s office, and now _you’re_ here, with long faces and sad eyes. I want _papa_!”  
Scorpius threw an arm around her, glaring at all the adults, since no one was really moving to speak. Then, Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

“Malfoy was attacked this afternoon.”

Aquila gasped loudly, pressing her hand against her mouth and staring at Harry with wide eyes. “Please, no. Don’t tell me he’s dead. No. No no no. No, please, Dad, no.”  
Harry smiled weakly. “He isn’t. Shit, I said it all wrong. No, he’s not dead. He’s just hurt. I have no doubt he will be fine in no time.”

Pansy, Blaise and Greg looked at one another from the corner of their eyes, uncomfortable with their knowledge. Did Harry truly not know? He couldn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t say this to their children.

“Thank Merlin,” Phi mumbled. “Can we see him?”  
“In a bit. But your final exams are coming up, and you need to focus on that. Malfoy would be disappointed if you failed your exams.”  
“What was he attacked with?”  
“It was a spell, but he says it’s fine. I’ll take you to visit him whenever you want, as long as you promise me you won’t fail your exams. In the meantime, you don’t have to worry about him. He will be okay, I swear.”

Albus and Lily smiled, patting their siblings’s backs and shoulders, but James looked at the ground. Cassie was trembling in Scorpius’s arms, with her face hiding in his chest.

Then, Ophiuchus stood up and addressed the entire room.

“Let’s play a game. We’ll think of who could be behind it on a later date. Now, I want to have fun.”

He crawled on Harry’s lap, directed James which game he wanted to play and pointed Neville to the drinks.

The atmosphere as comfy, although everyone was a bit subdued and Cassie didn’t resurface from Scorpius’s hold until she went to sleep in Draco’s bed. Greg knew that everyone felt the same thing:

Things were not all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think and scream at me in the comments, because I love screaming!


	51. Cassie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, first off... I know I missed last week, but I have a (good?) reason for that. Because, you see, I told you that I would have a lot of stress, and you all were so kind to say that I should take my time, so I thought you might not mind so much if I skipped a week? I was reeeaaally tired, could barely keep my eyes open, let alone write something of passable quality. So for your sake as well as for mine, I just didn't do it?
> 
> On the other hand, this chapter is much longer than usual chapters, so I figure that could make up for it.
> 
> The content though...
> 
> **WARNING: This chapter includes stories from the war from Draco's perspective, which may sometimes by triggering? I don't know for sure, but yeah, there is a chance that it's triggering. Mentions of suicide, implied violence and domestic (sort of?) abuse. So. Yeah.** Those stories begin at the divider, and end at the second divider. If you'd rather skip it, you can! (It's mostly canon re-writing, with here and there a bit of my own headcanon or ideas of what might have gone through Draco's head.)

“Hi papa,” Cassie’s voice sounded from the door opening. It had been two weeks of lying in the hospital and feeling himself grow heavier and lazier. His children and friends had made sure to visit regularly, but even so, the days were long and torturous. He wasn’t even allowed to do more than three puzzles a day, since it would ‘tire him out so rapidly’ otherwise. Incompetent Healers.

Draco turned his head and raised his arm to beckon his daughter closer. “Cassie, love. So glad you’re here. How’s school?”  
“Awful. I hate human kind. How’s being ill?”  
Draco huffed out a laugh. “Awful. I hate St. Mungo’s. Why do you hate human kind?”  
“Everyone is just _begging_ for a fight. They taunt me and bully me until I give in and beat them. McGonagall has called me to her office a couple of times now, but she won’t listen to my side of the story. She doesn’t believe I’m merely standing up for myself, and detracts points from Slytherin all the time. Like, since when is it illegal to defend myself, right? And those two Gryffindors are the worst, you know those that made Phi morph into Tom Riddle? I hit Keira two days back, so she has backed off a bit, but Arthur ruined my potion the other day. I have to get my revenge on him. I was thinking –“  
“Wow, Cassie, stop right there. Hold on a minute. How many fights have you been in?”  
“I don’t know, does it matter? Anyway, the idea is that Phi and I will –“  
“No, Cassiopeia, don’t say another word. _Sit down_.”

Draco patted the bedside and Cassie sat down, looking slightly confused but mostly contrite.

“Why would you think that people are bullying you? Tell me everything from the moment it started. And be honest.”

Cassie sighed. “Promise me you won’t get angry.”  
“I can’t promise that, but you know I don’t get angry unless it’s justified.”  
“I don’t like it when you’re reasonable,” Cassie grumbled. “But all right. At the beginning of the year, people tried to annoy me by saying bad things about you. I ignored them, because I knew you could defend yourself just fine. But you didn’t! You let them walk all over you! You _know_ what they say about you, and you never did a thing. How was I supposed to just let that happen? So I went up to anyone that annoyed me and warned them that they should back off. One thing led to another, and then I had my first duel, with a third-year Hufflepuff. I won, so her friends went after me for revenge and that soon escalated to me fighting with about anyone in school. It only got worse after your trials. And if fighting is the only way I can help, then so be it. I can handle a few bruises.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Draco wondered disbelievingly.  
“I did, but no one listened! You certainly didn’t, and who else could I have turned to?”  
“ _Any_ other teacher, Cass. You could have told Potter, or Neville, or even Ron. Aren’t you close with Ron?”  
“Well, yes, but what could he have done?”

Draco meant to answer, but was interrupted by a heavy coughing fit, after which a Healer came rushing in to check his vitals, offer him a drink and help him control his breathing. Cassie stared wide-eyed at the Healer, until she left them again, assured by Draco that he was fine.

“What was I saying? Oh right. Cass, you can’t –“

“You’re dying, aren’t you?”

The sudden question made Draco stutter before silencing completely.

“Aren’t you?” Cassie pressed.  
Draco could only nod. He saw the last bit of determined anger fall from his daughter’s face as she laid herself down next to him and pushed close.

“Why didn’t you tell us, last couple of times we were here? There were enough opportunities. Why didn’t Dad tell us everything from the start?”  
“Potter doesn’t know.”  
“What? Why not?”  
“He doesn’t have to know until it’s the end. That’ll be soon enough.”  
“And that was your plan for us as well? Let us watch you get worse until you’ve died?”  
“I just didn’t know what to say to you. Everything I would’ve said, would’ve hurt you.”  
“Yes, but it wouldn’t have hurt as much as finding out this way. I _love_ you, papa, I don’t want you to die!” Cassie exclaimed.

Draco wrapped an arm around her sobbing body to pull her against his chest as she had started crying. “I love you too. So, so much. You will never understand how much. You _know_ you mean everything to me, don’t you? I need you to know that, Cappy girl. Forever, yeah?”  
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. You’ve always said that we shouldn’t keep secrets, because it would come back to haunt us later in life.”  
“I know. I made a mistake. I’ll tell the others when they stop by this afternoon, all right?”  
“All right. But in the meantime, I want you to sing my song. Please.”

And Draco sang, as well as his tired throat could manage.

“ _Come stop your crying,_  
 _It will be all right._  
 _Just take my hand_  
 _And hold it tight,”_

He felt like a liar. It wouldn’t be all right. Perhaps his children would get over this eventually, perhaps they would manage to continue living, but it would never be all right anymore. He knew well enough how much he meant to his children, and how much they loved him. Nothing would be all right, no touch of a hand, no song, no stroke through silky, wonderful, blonde hair.

_“For one so small,_   
_you seem so strong_   
_My arms will hold you,_   
_keep you safe and warm_   
_This bond between us_   
_can't be broken_   
_I will be here_   
_Don't you cry”_

His arms wouldn’t be strong enough to hold Cassie so close within a few weeks. He wouldn’t be able to protect her from her nightmares again. He hadn’t even protected her the last two weeks, and that month he had been in custody. He was a rubbish father to his youngest daughter. She couldn’t live without him yet, she was much, _much_ too young to be without her papa. She was right to cry, there was no other possible reaction.

“ _When destiny calls you_  
_You must be strong_  
_I may not be with you,_  
_But you’ve got to hold on_  
_They’ll see in time,_  
_I know,_  
_We’ll show them togethe_ r”

She needed to be so strong, so incredibly strong, to get through this without a scratch. There were going to be so many set-backs and obstacles, and Draco wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. But if there was something as an afterlife, if there was a chance that Draco could become a ghost, he would make sure that he could stay with his children in another way. That was a promise he intended to keep. If only he had made a couple horcruxes…

No, that was nonsense. He would only have had a longer, more painful process of dying.

“ _Just look over your shoulder,_  
_Just look over your shoulder,_  
_Just look over your shoulder,_  
_I’ll be there always,”_

When the song was finished, Cassie had stopped crying – externally – andturned on her back to stare at the ceiling.

“You promised me…” she started, hiccoughing. “You promised me you would tell me everything someday. I think that ‘someday’ is now.”

Draco didn’t have to wonder what she was referring to. He closed his eyes to prepare himself. Even through his reluctance, he knew Cassie was right, and he should tell her now, before he couldn’t anymore.

“It’s a long story –“  
“Papa!” Cassie warned.  
“Let me finish. It’s a long story, but I will tell you in as much detail as I can muster, all right? Anything else you want to know, you should research on your own. Now, where to start?”

* * *

 

“As you know, Grandfather joined the Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War. He was certain of the pureblood theories, at least that they were superior over half-bloods or muggleborns, and thought it a good way to gain power. He never regretted that choice on a personal level. The only thing he regretted was that it cost him money and prestige.

He had always told me to be prepared for when the Dark Lord returned. He prepared me for obeying orders without asking questions and shutting off any compassion when necessary. I was sixteen when I took the Mark, and I was thrilled to be of service. If this would pave the way for my future ambitions, I would do whatever they asked. It only took a month or two before I wanted to get out. But they noticed my apprehension and threatened my parents if I didn’t do what was asked of me. My choice was made.

What I saw and did, got progressively worse. I saw one of my teachers die at the hand of a casual Killing Curse, and I did nothing. I joined in raids of houses of Muggleborn wizards. I tortured so-called blood traitors. And I stood by and watched other people be burnt to death. All because I didn’t see a way out.”

“What about Dad?” Cassie asked after a short bout of silence.

“He grew up with Muggles. Therefore, the wizarding world didn’t know much about him, and there were many theories as to how he hadn’t died. Grandfather, along with a majority of wizarding Britain, believed that he was a great Dark wizard, with even more power than Riddle. That led to my first proper Malfoy task: befriend Harry Potter, which would put me on the right side of true magical strength if there would ever be a fight.

But Potter, noble, idiotic and annoying Gryffindor that he is, wasn’t a Dark wizard and he certainly didn’t need or want a high social status or riches and wealth. And so, our antagonism was established.

Especially once the Dark Lord had risen again, I was used as a spy on all things Potter. It wasn’t because I was asked to do so, but because I saw and heard everything that concerned him, and reported it back to my father in my letters.

In sixth year, it was really bad. It wasn’t officially war yet, but it was the worst year of my life. Right before sixth year, I took the Mark, but I soon saw everything that was wrong with it. I got depressed because of everything people told me: either reports from my father, or nightmares from classmates, or experiences from friends. Above all, I was supposed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, or else. I had to murder… the Headmaster, or else. Eventually Severus killed him, but I had been the one to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

Potter once followed me into the bathroom of Moaning Myrtle, who I used to talk to about everything. We were friends, of a kind. He found me crying there. As a defense mechanism, I tried to Crucio him, but I didn’t feel enough hate. He then cast a spell that he didn’t know the effects of. The scars on my chest are of that spell. If Severus hadn’t been there with loads of dittany and a counterspell, I would have bled to death.

It wasn’t the first time one of us hurt the other, really. We have broken each other’s bones, given concussions and drawn blood. It was just the first time death had actually been a possibility.

In seventh year, I had given up on myself and on the chance of doing something good. The Golden Trio were out horcrux-hunting and the Death Eaters had taken over Hogwarts. Severus was Headmaster, while the Carrows made sure everyone followed the rules. I had shut down all capability of caring for anyone but my friends. It worked, to a certain extent. Until a fellow Slytherin, a first-year, committed suicide and blamed me for making her feel so bad. It ruined me, finding her body on the shore of the Great Lake.

And then, Potter and Ron and Hermione were found. They were brought to the Manor, as that was where Riddle was staying at the time. Potter was barely recognisable because Hermione had cast a severe Stinging Hex on his face. They called for me to identify him. I told them I couldn’t be sure, so they brought Ron and Potter to the dungeons. Hermione was left upstairs with Bellatrix and the rest of us.

I watched Bellatrix torture Hermione, and then I had to do it myself. Suddenly, there was a lot of chaos, because Potter and Ron had found a way to escape. Dobby, our house-elf helped them. He adored Potter. It killed him, because he took Grandmère’s wand when she tried to stop the trio, and Bellatrix threw a knife at him. After they had gotten away, I was locked inside my room for days, until my throat had stopped working from the screaming, and all my muscles hurt.”

“Like in the dream I had when you were in custody,” Cassie whispered.  
Draco nodded. “Exactly like that.

And during the Battle, the Slytherins were locked away by Minerva. We freed ourselves, and I pulled Greg and Vince to the Room of Requirement, where I knew the trio would be to find a horcrux. I wanted to try one last time, one last chance to prove my worth to my father. He had quite given up on my use, you know. Only years after the war had ended, did he stop seeing me as a failure. Don’t get me wrong, Cassie, he still loved me very much, but he saw two different Draco’s: his son, whom he loved, and his heir, who was supposed to continue his heritage and make the Dark Lord proud. He was disappointed in his heir. And so, I tried to make him appreciate me again by trying to capture Potter and bring him to Riddle.”

“You wanted to hand him over?”  
Draco chuckled at Cassie’s indignant tone. “I did. But only because I was sure, _so sure_ , that Potter would finish Riddle easily. There wasn’t a moment I doubted it. I knew Potter would win, one way or another. That is why I decided to do it.

But everything went different. I couldn’t make myself capture him. I was afraid. No matter how certain I was of Potter’s capabilities, I was afraid that he might make a mistake, or that he would be trapped and would die anyway. I couldn’t let that happen, could I? So I hesitated and doubted until it was too late. The trio was gone. With my tail between my legs, I wanted to leave the Room and pretend that nothing happened. As a last revenge or joke, Vince set fire to the Room, but the fire was uncontrollable due to the magic of the Room itself. We got trapped ourselves. We climbed on top of a pile of items, but the fire caught on quickly. Ron and Potter had found brooms, where, I don’t know, but they came back to save us. Vince couldn’t hold on long enough. He fell in the fire, screaming, while Potter and Ron picked up Greg and me, and flew out of the Room right before the fire burned us. We… For the second time, I had been sure I would die, and for the second time, I was saved by some unbelievable luck.

So many had died already. Classmates, friends, family members. And then Potter went to the Forbidden Forest, where Riddle wanted him. He knew he would die. Grandmother was there. She watched Potter stand, wandless, to wait for the Killing Curse that would undoubtedly come. And he died, Cassie. He really did. I knew it would happen, I felt it, somehow. You know how my instincts have always been correct. The moment we were out of the Room, I knew he would die.

Mother checked whether he had really been killed. She asked him whether I was safe, and when Potter answered in the positive, she told Riddle that Potter was truly dead. She is a very strong Occlumens, and Riddle didn’t see through her lie. Hagrid, who had been taken hostage, had to carry Potter’s body to the courtyard, where everyone had been fighting or waiting for them to return.

Greg and I were stood amidst the other students, and no one blinked an eye. They all thought I may have changed my affiliations, that I may have come to my senses and fight for the Light side. But when my parents called me to join them… I couldn’t disobey. I wish I could have. Merlin, how I wish I could have just ignored them and stand for what I really believed in. But I couldn’t. I crossed the courtyard, because Mother called me. I think she knew that Riddle’s power would end when Potter stood up again, but it was her last act of protection. If I wouldn’t have crossed the courtyard, Riddle would have killed us all. Now, we only had fines and my Father a time in Azkaban. Mother is a strategic genius, Cassie, never forget that.

Anyway. Potter rolled out of Hagrid’s arms and fought Riddle after Neville had killed Nagini. After that, it wasn’t long before Riddle was dead. We were long gone by that time. We were safe at home.”

Cassie hummed. “Who is Nagini?”

A pained sound came forth from Draco’s throat and his arm clenched.  
“Papa? Who is Nagini?” Cassie pressed, with knotted eyebrows and fear written plainly on her face.

Draco took a few deep breaths before nodding to himself. “Nagini was the very last horcrux. She was a snake, a cobra of some kind. She was some twelve feet long, and highly venomous. Severus was bitten and died within a few minutes. You know how terrified you can be when Mrs. Norris appears, because you know that Filch will come by any minute? That was the same with Nagini and Riddle. Where Nagini was, there was Riddle. And because Riddle was a Parseltongue, Nagini could tell him everything you did wrong and you would be punished.”

“Have you ever been bitten by her?”  
“No, otherwise I would be dead. But – Shit, Cass, I don’t want to tell you this.”  
“You must!”  
“I know, I know. I was never bitten, but she did strangle me a few times, until I was close to death, as a punishment for not being quicker with the Vanishing Cabinet, or for any other thing I have ever done wrong in Riddle’s eyes. Sometimes, she would wind her tail around my upper left arm, so that the blood circulation was blocked. Riddle liked to see how far he could push people until they broke, either mentally or physically.”

* * *

 

Cassie coughed to hide her sobs and try to remove the rock she felt in her stomach. “It’s the snake I always see in my dreams, isn’t it?”  
“Yes. It is.”  
“Why do I see things that happened to you? Am I a Seer? Is there something wrong with me? Were you cursed?”  
“No to all of those things. It’s complicated. You have to listen carefully.”  
“I’m listening, papa. I will always be listening.”

Draco nodded. “All right. When you were born, there were many difficulties. The Healers tried to deliver you carefully, but you got hurt and you released accidental magic. That happens more often when toddlers get hurt, but it usually isn’t as noticeable or strong as yours was. The magic created a blockade when it reacted with your mother’s. The Healers couldn’t see through the blockade, and couldn’t check up on you anymore. They decided to link your feelings to me, so that if I got hurt somewhere, they knew to be more careful. But the magical blockade made the spell they used go wonky. It felt like a clumsy Legilimens was poking through my head. My theory is that all my memories and thoughts from that moment were conveyed to you, so that you see things that happened to me, or that you think things I used to think. When you were finally delivered, they cast the counterspell, so we don’t still share a mind, but they couldn’t reverse what had already happened.”

With raised eyebrows, Cassie grinned. “That’s pretty cool.”  
“It would have been, if you didn’t get such awful nightmares from it,” Draco complained. The grin suddenly fell from Cassie’s face and she broke out in sobs again.

“A-Are you saying that everything I dream has happened to you? All of it?” she cried.  
“Shit,” Draco mumbled. “I thought you had realised that already. I wondered how well you took it. Cassie, Cassie, love, no, don’t cry. Love, please, come on, don’t cry. I’m here, aren’t I?”  
“They’re not just dreams,” Cassie wailed. “You always said they were just dreams, but they aren’t. I’ve seen _you_ being Crucio’ed, and tortured and hurt! I’ve seen _you_ almost die so many times, it was _you_ every time! Papa, you _almost died_!”

“But I didn’t. I’m here with you, and I love you, and I will always stay with you. I will never leave you.”  
“You are dying _right now_. You won’t be here much longer, because you are _dying_. And this time for real. You won’t always stay with me! You’re a liar, papa, a real liar!”

Cassie’s words stung, but the way she only pressed closer and clenched her fists in Draco’s shirt and hair was enough for Draco to forgive her instantly and wrap his arm around her even tighter. He laid her head on his chest, which Cassie took as an invite to crawl almost on top of him in an effort to be even closer.

“Now you know that those memories are mine, you must also realise that I can never really leave you, love. There is always something from me that you will have. Something tangible, something undeniable. Those memories are no one else’s but mine. They’re _me_ , Cassiopeia. _You_ are me. We can’t be separated. Never.”

He felt her nod against him, messy blonde hair tangling with his own.

“All right. All right then. But how can I live without you, papa? What use is there if you aren’t there to cuddle me, and to soothe me? Who else can I hit when I am so angry I need to let it out? Who else can advise me on any and everything? No one else can handle me. They all think I’m annoying, or just a child. You are the only one that knows me and loves me for who I am. You are the only one that knows what I can actually do, and doesn’t care for the mistakes I make.”

“That’s not true. You have three very loving siblings. Six, actually, if you count the Potters. Lily loves you very much, you know. And do you have any idea what Ron and Neville have told me about you? Neville said he never was as good with plants as you are. You are a natural Herbologist! And Ron has adopted you as his own daughter. If – When I’m gone, he would steal you away from Potter and run away with you.”

“But they don’t _know_ me!”  
“Scorpius doesn’t know you?” Draco wondered. “Who spent all his free hours with you when I was held in custody? He knows more about you than about himself. He _cares_ more for you than for anyone else.”

Cassie balled a fist and slammed it on Draco’s chest, making him gasp for air for a few minutes.

“ _You are the only one that understands the mistake I made_!” she screamed against his collarbone, again crying violently and almost ripping the sheets apart. Draco quickly grabbed her hands and pulled them away from the bed, trying to make her look him in the eye. When that didn’t work, he sighed and just threaded his fingers through her hair.

“What mistake are you talking about, love?”  
Making an aborted sound, Cassie sat up, showing red-rimmed eyes and a wild expression, and starts to fiddle with her sleeve.

“Cassie, tell me what is wrong. We just agreed that keeping things from each other is the worst thing we can do, didn’t we? Come on, you can tell me anything,” Draco coaxed softly, until the tension in Cassie’s shoulders disappeared and she grimaced.

“I made such a huge mistake, papa. I thought I was going to protect you, but then they started asking all these things of me, and I only wanted to defend you!”  
“Just tell me, from the beginning.”

Draco was beginning to get worried. Had his intuition been right about Cassie’s behaviour the last year? Was there something terribly wrong?

It turned out that yes, something was terribly wrong. Cassie slowly lifted up her sleeve, showing off a tattoo on the inside of her left arm.

In the first split second, Draco thought it was a Dark Mark. Luckily, it wasn’t, but the alternative was not much better. On her arm was a black circle with a triangle through it, clearly a kind of gang sign.

“They approached me a year back. They said that they wanted to support all former Death Eaters, and try to protect them from prejudice or violence. Of course I joined them. But in order to ensure your protection, I had to help them protect others as well. ‘It isn’t a one-way street’, they said. So I functioned as a distraction while they beat people up, and then I was asked to break into a house and steal some stuff. Stuff that was supposedly stolen from Death Eater families. And then, I had to hold back children from people that were beaten. I’m so sorry, papa, I really am, but I thought it was a good cause! And I hate it now, I don’t want to be with them, but I don’t know what I can do!”

Draco gathered Cassie up in his arms, not really knowing what to say, so choosing to say nothing. It was silent for a few minutes, until Draco took a breath.

“Who are those people?”  
Cassie shrugged. “They never gave names.”  
“Then who were they abusing?”  
“They said it was people that bullied Death Eater families, but I… I think they attacked Death Eater families instead of protected them.”

And that was the clue, wasn’t it? The clue to all strange things that had happened to Draco and his family throughout the year. Phi’s Animagus, Cassie’s behaviour, Scorpius’s beating up. Only Aquila had escaped the fight.

“I was wrong, I was so, so wrong,” Cassie whimpered in Draco’s collarbone. “What can I do, papa, please, help me. I don’t want this anymore. I want them gone from our lives, I want to pretend that this never happened. Papa, I did so many bad things.”  
“It isn’t your fault, Cassie, you couldn’t have known,” Draco tried to soothe.  
“But I should have! I strolled into their trap like a blind man into the wall. You have _always_ warned me for these things, you _always_ told me to tell you everything. I should just have listened to you. I should always listen to you, papa.”  
“Hey, no, stop your crying, love. Come on, dry those tears. Cassie, Cassie, Cassie, you’re just like me. You try to do something good, but it always fails in the worst possible way. I know, love, I know exactly how you feel.”

As Cassie’s head lifted slowly from his chest – and Draco finally acknowledged the pain and lack of breath – Draco took his chance to try and make Cassie forgive herself.

“No matter how well you would have listened to me, you would still be my daughter. You just want to protect your family, no matter the costs. I know you do, and I love it about you. I really, really do. But you have to realise that, in addition to being my daughter, with all my flaws, you were also almost placed in Gryffindor. You do reckless things, without fully thinking them through, and you only see the good in people. Ever since you were born, I _knew_ something like this would happen, and I still love you. I have never _not_ loved you. Don’t beat yourself up about this. Accept it as part of your story, and move on. Learn from it. There are other ways of chasing justice than violence.”

When Cassie nodded, rolling off Draco and curling under his arm, next to him, Draco let his mind wander to who these people could be and whether they could have been responsible for last year.

After what felt like thirty seconds, but was more like thirty minutes, the door of Draco’s room opened again to let in the other three Malfoys, guided by his Healer that came to check up on his vitals.

Cassie sat up, threw Draco a meaningful look and smiled at her siblings. Draco swallowed, letting the Healer leave before he announced he had something to say. His children surrounded his bed, Phi sitting against the headboard, Scorpius standing at his feet and his daughters flanking his sides.

“What is it, papa?” Aquila asked, wearing a soft expression.  
Draco swallowed again. “Potter didn’t tell you the whole truth of the curse.” He saw Scorpius clench his fists as fear flitted through his eyes, before he masked it. “That is because Potter doesn’t know everything, and I want you to keep it a secret from him.” Phi frowned, adopting a thoughtful look on his face and already seeming to calculate how he could tell Potter the truth without breaking Draco’s faith.

“I am not going to get better.”

The statement got very different reactions, but all of them silent, without making a sound.

Scorpius’s fist relaxed too suddenly to be natural, his face carefully void of any emotion. His jaw ticked, though, and his eyes showed such fierce anger as Draco hadn’t ever seen from him.

Phi shook his head, continuously, as if he couldn’t believe it, no matter how sure he was that Draco wasn’t lying. It looked like he was trying to convince whatever supernatural power there was that it wasn’t necessary, that Draco really shouldn’t die. He seemed determined in succeeding in his bargain.

Cassie was – as expected – not as shocked as the others, but there were fat drops sliding down her cheeks again, while she fiddled with the sleeve of her left arm and hunched her shoulders forward.

Aquila’s reaction was the most painful, however. She was looking at Draco’s hands, a desolate but calm expression on her face. She gave off the vibe that, for the first time in her life, knowledge and facts didn’t cut the deal. She then exhaled a silent breath, before nodding slowly and rubbing her hands together.

Draco felt tears prickling behind his eyelids, extraordinarily feeling the hurt of seeing his children’s reactions. Cassie probably wouldn’t know what to with her life, and if he wouldn’t be able to make her forgive herself for this tiny mistake of hers, he knew that she would never get over it. Scorpius was most likely going to fight until he exhausted himself and broke down after Draco had truly passed. Ophiuchus would never be able to be sure of anything, he would forever doubt himself until the very end or until someone came along to drag him out of the grey area he would have brought himself in.  
And Aquila had accepted his death as undeniable and unchangeable. Aquila, who had always been ready to stand for her believes, and who had never given up on anything. Aquila, who had always been sure that _nothing_ in life was ever unchangeable, if only you fought hard enough.

The first one to speak was Aquila.

“Hey, papa. If you are… well, _dying_ , you should sing for us now that you still can,” she smiled.

And Draco couldn’t refuse, could he? It was very likely that this day, this week, was the last week he would be able to sing, and who was he to deny his children that last time? He would sing, of course he would.

He started with the song he wrote himself, to loosen the knot of emotions and thoughts he once had, and then added verses to it as his children were born. He remembered singing this song for his children somewhere in the past schoolyear, a week after the duel with Potter, and even sining the very last verse he had written, which referred to his past with Potter and how he felt about him now.

_“I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes,_  
_And felt I knew the truth_  
_I thought I was the glorious one,_  
_But then came my dark youth._

_I was proven wrong and tried,_  
_But nothing helped my case_  
_Who would ever trust me now,_  
_What was my true face?_

_Then somehow you appeared,_  
_And gave me back my smile._  
_You promised a new fate_  
_Gave me something worthwhile._

_My lovely daughter, always strong_  
_Will smile and fight for her believes,_  
_The brightest one I’ve ever met,_  
_The Malfoy-Black that achieves._

_The son I never thought I’d get,_  
_The most powerful of all_  
_Fighting with determination,_  
_Willpower and endless charm._

_Somehow you appeared,_  
_And gave me back my smile._  
_You promised a new fate_  
_Gave me something worthwhile._

_The third, my energy resource_  
_You tire me out, you’re lifting me up_  
_You’re brave and a gift to this world,_  
_You are my little lion’s cub._

_My youngest, our Benjamin,_  
_I know your worries, my mini-Potter,_  
_But you deserve every good thing,_  
_In  this life, so don’t bother_

_Somehow you appeared,_  
_And gave me back my smile,_  
_You promised a new fate,_  
_Gave me something worthwhile._

_I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes,_  
_Coming here wasn’t one._  
_I found what I had lost of myself,_  
_And recovered what I’ve done._ ”

At the end of the song, his four children had all piled on the bed to touch him one way or another, just to feel closer to him.

After that, and after another coughing fit and having trouble to coax his voice out of his throat, Draco sang the songs he had dedicated to his children, making them all cry – or, in Scorpius’s case, cough and roughly wipe at his eyes.

“It seems every song I dedicated to you is a sort of goodbye for a moment like this, isn’t it?” Draco remarked wryly.  
“Well, you always said that you chose the songs because they would help us in difficult times,” Phi pondered.  
Aquila nodded. “Exactly. Mine says that I don’t have to change a thing about myself. Cassie’s song is an assurance that you always love her, no matter what stupid thing she does” – Cassie sobbed loudly at that – “and Phi’s is about being close to you, even when you are gone. And of course, the song about family for Scorpius. You figured it all out.”

Suddenly, Scorpius roared in anger. “ _Every_ song holds a truth to it, doesn’t it? _Every single one._ What’s the truth in my song, then, papa? Tell me, what is the truth?”  
“Everything, Scorpius. Calm down. What do you want me to say?”  
Scorpius snorted furiously. “So everything is true? ‘ _Will I let this woman kill me, or do away with jealous love_ ’? That’s the lyrics of my song, isn’t it? Is that true? Is it this woman?”  
“What woman are you talking about?”  
“ _You know who_! Don’t pretend you don’t, please. I’m not stupid. You and I both know who is responsible for killing you.”

Cassie cowered, thinking that Scorpius meant her, but when Scorp threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, all the while staring fiercely at Draco, the tension in her shoulders was released a bit and she sagged against her brother.

“Scorpius –“  
“Don’t _Scorpius_ me. Why aren’t you sending the Aurors on her way? She is _killing_ you, and you are _letting_ her? Why?”  
“I don’t –“  
“Give me an honest answer on this question. Is the one responsible for this, the woman I think it is?”

His four children looked at him, awaiting his response and the consequent burst of rage that would undoubtedly come forth from Scorpius.

“Yes.”

And just like that, the door slammed closed, leaving Draco with Aquila, Cassie and Phi in the room. After a moment, they heard rocks breaking on the pavement outside of the hospital, and desperate cries of frustration, which could only come from Scorpius himself.

Aquila smiled apologetically, before slipping out as well to find her twin.

“It isn’t your fault,” Cassie whispered. Draco didn’t see her, as he had his eyes clenched shut in an effort to stop himself from crying, but he felt her soft finger trail over his nose and along his eyebrows.

“Nor is it yours,” Phi then said, apparently to Cassie. “I don’t know why you would think it is, but it isn’t. Right, papa?”

But Draco didn’t respond. The day had cost him too much energy, with the amount of tears he had seen, and the anger, and the fear, and the stories he had had to tell Cassie about his past.

He slept fitfully, turning this way and that, until he woke up in a pitch-black room, seemingly without his children. He saw movement in the chair in the corner of the room, where Scorp’s blonde hair glinted in the moonlight.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” Scorpius said.  
“Aren’t you supposed to be back at Hogwarts already?”  
“I sneaked out when everyone had gone to bed. I needed to see you before I fell asleep. You always say to never go to bed fighting.”  
“Quite right.”  
“So. Sorry. I am just so angry at you.”  
“I know, love. I know.”  
“Do you? Because we have talked about this so very often. I said, quite literally, that you should stand up for yourself, that you should defend yourself. But you never did. And look where it’s gotten you.”  
Draco nodded. “I still stand by my decisions.”  
“And so do I. I will track her down, papa. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do. I will track her down and make her pay. She is killing you, and she deserves Azkaban, at least.”  
“Don’t do anything illegal,” Draco managed to say, before he dozed off again, tired of his illness and the drama.

He only just heard Scorpius chuckle, assure him that he wouldn’t, and felt the kiss on his cheek, before he slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite comment on my last chapter: 'CAN THIS JUST CALM DOWN FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS SO I CAN BREATHE??!?!!'
> 
> Thank you. This made my day. I like torturing people.
> 
> ...
> 
> Did I say that out loud?


	52. Lucius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm a week late again. But I promise, now I have enough time to stick to the schedule again. And there will be another chapter online today or tomorrow to make up for the missed week!

When Lucius walked into the hospital room of his son, he stood at the door opening to watch Draco. Draco didn’t seem to notice him, which explained why he wasn’t trying to look well. He was breathing through his mouth, eyes hooded and staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

Lucius took a few steps back and then went to the room with a bit of noise, to allow his son the dignity of believing that he could fool him.

“Father,” Draco greeted with a hoarse voice. Frowning lightly, Draco cleared his throat and tried again, but there was barely any improvement. The heart monitoring charm started beeping at a higher tone, probably indicating that Draco’s heart was doing odd things, and Draco sighed and leant back.

“Draco. How are you feeling?”  
“Very well. I still feel like I could be teaching at Hogwarts. The upper years’s NEWTS are quickly approaching, and I want ‘em to pass.”  
“You shouldn’t worry about all that, though. I’m sure Headmistress McGonagall has it all figured out.”  
Draco hummed. “No, prob’ly not. James’s not teaching, so I wouldn’t know who else she could’ve found.”  
“I can go find out, if you want. Your mother is in touch with your friends and Potter.”  
“No, not necessary, but thanks. If you want tea, there’s somethin’ on the table there.”

Lucius looked around to see a pot of tea under the Stasis charm on the desk. He turned to get two cups, and took a bit longer than necessary to gather his wits.

“So, Draco, there is something I should talk to you about.”  
“Hmm?”  
“Ophiuchus told me that Cassiopeia had told him that you hadn’t told Mr. Potter yet about your… condition.”  
“Hm.”  
“Don’t hum so disapprovingly at me, I’m still your father. I just want the best for you.”

Draco smiled lightly and patted the bed to find Lucius’s hand, which he quickly put in his son’s reach and let him squeeze it.

“I know, Father.”  
“Good. You see, you know I don’t approve of your relationship with Mr. Potter, so what does it mean if even _I_ think you should tell him everything?”  
“That means you don’t understand my line of thought.”  
“No one does. I doubt you even understand yourself. Draco, you are with him in a serious relationship. You have to tell him. You know that just as well as I do.”  
“But Father –“  
“No. He has taken your last name. Your children have taken his last name. You are one family now. How can you justify not telling him? He is of the impression that you will get over this, and he has no idea why your children are so sad all the time. And when he visits you, he will see how utterly horrible you look, and it will only hurt him more.”

Groaning, Draco tried to sit up, but didn’t manage until a passing Healer stopped at his room and helped him up with a pitying smile. Lucius sneered nastily to chase the Healer away as soon as possible.

“Father, let me explain.”  
“Gladly.”  
“There isn’t a reason for Potter to know. If he knows now, he will only suffer more ‘cause he’ll try to find the one responsible, and he won’t have a life anymore. Now, he doesn’t know, and he can enjoy those last few weeks without worrying. It’s all in his best interest, really.”  
“No, it isn’t, Draco. You are in denial.”  
“I’m not! I’ve already accepted that I’ll die, that’s why I’m not telling Potter.”  
“You are trying to isolate yourself. You don’t let anyone visit unless they absolutely demand to come. You practically ignore your children. You pretend that nothing is wrong, while you are a day away from death. You push everyone away, just because you can’t admit that you are dying. I know that I messed up your upbringing, but I never thought I ruined your ability to think logically.”

Draco sneered. “Yes, well, there’re many things you don’t know.”  
“Really?” Lucius asked with a raised eyebrow. “Like I don’t know about that person that’s been following you for the last, what is it, two years? Or whatever is going on with Cassiopeia lately? I know more than you think, Draco.”  
“Yeah? What’s this spell then, if you know so much.”  
“It’s the _Asthenos stenos_ curse, made to attack your most valuable asset. Of course I recognise the symptoms of the spell _you_ gave to the Dark Lord, Draco. My question is why you are the victim of so many assaults?”  
“Thought you knew everything.”  
Lucius sighed. “You are acting like a teenager. I know something is going on, and I am just asking for your side of the story. And now, if you please. Before you are dead.”

The tension created by the last sentence was palpable. Lucius stared Draco down, making him squirm like the teenager his father had just called him. Even though Lucius felt it stab through his own chest, he knew it was necessary to be harsh at times that Draco was trying to deny the inevitable.

“’S not important,” Draco mumbled. After Lucius rolled his eyes, Draco copied the action and exhaled shakily. “I’ll need tea for this.”

Lucius immediately went to the corner of the room to grab Draco some tea, and gestured for him to start talking.

“Someone followed me for the last two years.” Draco swallowed. “Always wore black robes, the kind of swishing ones that Severus used to wear. Face not visible, because of this or that. Always another reason.”  
“And the woman Scorpius told me about? Who is this woman?”  
“Not entirely sure. Probably one of those that don’t like me.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucius snapped, making Draco flinch.  
 “There’re so many that hate me. Not much I can do ‘bout that, is there? So –“

“Do _not_ bullshit me!”

Draco’s eyes widened minimally at his father’s outburst. Lucius understood completely. He rarely cussed.

“I want you to be completely and entirely honest with me. Who is this woman, who is this person that has been following you, and who are those people that Cassiopeia has affiliated herself with?”

With a groan and a coughing fit, Draco tried to tell his father to let it go, but the stern expression he used to be afraid of, was back, and he was afraid again. Lucius could see it in his eyes and his fiddling hands.

“I hate you sometimes, Father,” Draco grumbled.  
“Be careful with what you say, it may be the last thing,” Lucius merely remarked.  
Draco coughed again, but nodded shortly, giving in.

“All right. Okay, yes, okay. Sit down, please. ‘Bout five years ago, a movement came up, very hush-hush and very much in secret. Aim was to ‘ensure justice to victimised families.’ They stole money and houses from Death Eaters, gave them to those families that lost stuff. Last few years, it got worse. Started killing Death Eaters, got sneakier in assaulting them and finding them. I’ve always been high on the list of Death Eaters that had to be paid back, preferably in the worst possible way.”

Lucius sighed. “And this is how they do it?”  
“Perhaps. Two years ago, I heard rumours that they had plans for me. I started watching, and saw that person following me around. Everything that’s happened since then, is probably part of that. Last summer, they approached Cassie, telling her that they wanted to protect me.”  
“And she, being who she is, jumped at the opportunity to save you. They chose the right child for this.”  
“They could’ve chosen Scorp, and it would’ve worked as well.”  
“No, because Scorpius still knows what is the right way to achieve what he wants. Cassiopeia is the most impulsive one of them all.”  
“She was almost placed in Gryffindor.”  
“Go on with your story.”

Draco nodded. “To ‘protect’ me, they had to know my whereabouts and my secrets. She told ‘em everything.”  
“The articles about you and Mr. Potter?”  
“Yes.”  
“The potion that made Mr. Potter snap at you during the duel?”  
“Yes.”  
“The lycanthropic student that you have been helping?”  
“What?” Draco cried out, coughing heavily after that and gripping his chest in a pain reflex.

Lucius waved the rushing Healer away, knowing that nothing could help Draco anymore, and needing to hear the rest of the story.

“The lycanthropic student of yours. You’re giving that student some kind of Wolfsbane, right? An adapted kind that you created yourself. How did they get lycanthropy again?”  
“Inherited from their father, who’d been bitten by Greyback in the war.”  
“But none of Greyback’s victims have been inheritably changed. Teddy Lupin is no werewolf. None of the children are werewolves. That student of yours… if they really are a werewolf, their story is fake. Didn’t you know?”  
“I just… I tried not to think about it. I wanted to do some good for the world.”  
Lucius smiled lightly. “They must be part of that movement you told me about. Scorpius has helped that student through the more difficult times of the full moon, so I’m sure the student really is a werewolf. However, they didn’t get it from their father being bitten by Greyback. So that must be a back-up story, and since even you believed it, it must have been carefully crafted for you. They’re part of the movement, Draco. You fell into their trap.”  
“No. That can’t be true. Right? Why would students be involved in this movement?”  
“I suspect your lycanthropy student isn’t the only one,” Lucius frowned. “What did you say the last names of Terence and Priscus were?”  
“Terence Goldstein and Priscus Belby. Why?”  
“Goldstein as in, Anthony Goldstein and his wife? Same year as you?”  
“Yes?”  
Lucius suppressed a groan. “If there is anyone that holds a grudge against our family, it’s the Goldsteins. Terence must have been set up to it by his father, and he pulled Priscus with him into the movement.”  
“Theresa?”  
“Zarnel, right? The girl that helped you with your potions? I’m not sure. I only know that she is a half-blood with very, _very_ vague background. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is part of that movement as well.”

Draco closed his eyes, his hand spasmed and his breathing hitched for a terrifying moment, before he inhaled and opened his eyes again.

“What does Astoria have to do with it?” he questioned softly.  
“ _Does_ she have anything to do with it?”  
“Doesn’t she?”  
Lucius smirked. “To be honest, I don’t know. She may be in it, but I doubt it. Why do you think she’s involved?”  
“She went to see Scorp when I was in custody. ‘Ccording to ‘Quila, he was terrified afterwards.”  
“Does Scorpius know about Cassiopeia’s involvement with those people?”  
“Think so. Cassie’s talked to him a lot during my trials. Think that’s why Scorp was so afraid after Astoria’s conversation. She must’ve known something, told him about it, unknowing that it only would’ve gotten worse with what Scorp’s undoubtedly known.”  
Lucius frowned. “You aren’t making sense, Draco. Try again.”

Draco sighed deeply, pressing his hand against his temple. “Can’t get my thoughts in order. ‘M so tired, Father. So tired.”

Pursing his lips, Lucius reached out to touch his son’s hand, but pulled it back before he could do so.

“I know. Your heart is giving up. You have to tell Mr. Potter.”  
“We went over this. I won’t.”  
“Yes, we went over this. You should. You are in love with him, aren’t you?”  
After grumbling something, and after looking away from Lucius’s unimpressed look, Draco nodded. “’Course I do. Isn’t it obvious?”  
“No, it’s not. Not if you don’t tell him,” Lucius sneered.  
“Since when are you so into the communication thing?”  
“Since I have seen where it leads if you don’t communicate properly in a relationship. Do you think your mother wanted to join the Dark Lord?”

They kept quiet, trying to stare the other down. Only when Draco coughed and had to look away, their eye contact was broken.

“I’ll tell ‘em when I see ‘em again,” Draco promised in a whisper.  
Lucius nodded. “Very good. You may need some rest now.”  
“No. Please, Father, don’t leave me. Not now. Please.”  
“You’ll be all right, Draco. You need to sleep.”  
“No, no, I’m fine. If I sleep, I may not wake up again. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die, please don’t let me die.”

The urgency in Draco’s voice quickly turned into begging desperation. Lucius’s hand was clasped in Draco’s, but there wasn’t even much strength in his grip anymore.

“Please, Father.”  
“I’ll stay here if you sleep.”  
“No –“  
“You’ll only die faster if you don’t sleep. I’ll wake you if I think it’s necessary. Sleep now, Draco.”  
“Will Mother visit me soon?”  
Lucius smiled. “She will. She is planning on visiting today, after lunch. Sleep until then.”

Without needing to hear or say more, Draco nodded off, sleeping so deeply, that it made Lucius wonder how much he had been sleeping last couple of nights.

And how much Cassiopeia would have been sleeping. It couldn’t have been much, without her father, without anyone else that could replace him. Perhaps Scorpius could make sure she wasn’t breaking down entirely.

About an hour later, an hour which Lucius spent surreptitiously watching his son and the monitoring charms, which he spent fidgeting around and snapping his head up at every uncommon sound Draco made, _that_ hour later, Lucius finally heard Narcissa’s shoes tapping on the floor of the hall, going out to meet her.

“How is he?” Narcissa asked softly.  
Lucius sighed. “He’s dying.”  
“Don’t be so crude.”  
“I’m not. You know what the curse does.”  
“But I have never seen what it does to one’s heart. I have never seen someone die from it,” Narcissa remarked. She patted Lucius’s shoulder before moving into the room.

There, she stood still abruptly, surprised by the picture Draco made.

“I told you,” Lucius said. “He is dying.”  
“He is,” Narcissa agreed.  
“He wanted me to wake him up when you arrived.”  
“Let him sleep for a while longer. I want to talk to you first.”

They sat down on both sides of the bed, Narcissa nursing a cup of tea and Lucius looking at the tired, broken face of Draco.

“What can we do?”

Lucius looked up at his wife. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean what I mean. There must be something. Someone. It can’t be entirely out of our hands.”  
“Narcissa, I know I always said that we must control everything, because we can. I was wrong. This is not within our control. It slipped out of our control the moment the Dark Lord rose again.”  
“You sound like you are blaming yourself.”  
“I am. If I hadn’t succumbed to the success the Dark Lord promised me during the first war, Draco wouldn’t be here. The only reason he is victimised, is because of me and my pushing him during his youth. You know it, I know it, and I am not going to deny it any longer.”

Narcissa shook her head. “Calm down, Lucius. There are many variables that have influenced our lives, and Draco’s. It hasn’t just been you.”  
“It’s not like you would have let it go so far. You were the one who tried to stop me, time and time again. _You_ were responsible with our son’s life. _I_ wasn’t. You saved him, while I put him in peril.”

As Lucius was saying this, he felt a feather light touch to his hand. When he looked up, he saw Draco’s pale, terribly trembling fingers rest on his hand, with his eyes wide open and wheezing breaths.

“Doesn’t matter, F’ther.”  
“Draco –“  
“’S fine, really is. Many things happened. I made my own choices as well, not all good ones. ‘S all right, F’ther.”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a look, after which the touch on Lucius’s hand disappeared and Draco tried to clear his throat. Lucius couldn’t look at him anymore, so he pulled something from the inside of his robes and deposited it on Draco’s bed.

“Wha’s this?” Draco felt the fabric for a moment, a line of confusion between his eyes. “I don’t rec’gnise it.”  
“Oh, sorry.” Lucius quickly cast a charm, and saw Draco’s eyes light up.  
“Where’d you get this?” he hummed, pulling the red Muggle hoodie close to his face and smelling the collar.  
“James Potter sent me a letter, telling me about how loyal you are and how much he loves you. Do you really think I would want you to tell Mr. Potter if I wasn’t motivated to do so by the Potters themselves?”  
“Jamie’s a good guy. Say hi to him for me.”  
“I will. There’s been an article about you in _The Daily Prophet_ as well.”  
“There’re always articles.”

Lucius smiled. “I know, but this time, it’s different. Do you want me to read it to you?”  
“Can read it m’self, thanks.”  
“No, you cannot. You can’t even hold up a paper without tiring. I’ll read it to you.”

Scoffing, Narcissa picked up the paper from the table and leafed through it. “I am already holding the paper, and you are not, Lucius. Let me.” With a smile and a squeeze in Draco’s hand, she started reading.

“ ** _Draco Malfoy: a hero?  
_**_\- by a Anonymously Truthful, a student from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Everyone must have heard of this by now. Oh, you haven’t yet? Well. I will tell you then._

_On May 2 nd – yes, the very Memorial Day of the Battle of Hogwarts – Potions Master, Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House Mr. Draco Malfoy was attacked. He was in Diagon Alley with his partner, Harry Potter, when suddenly, he was hit by an unknown spell. The spell landed him in St. Mungo’s, where he is still, awaiting either death or healing._

_There are probably many of you out there, that are convinced Mr. Malfoy is bad, vile, untrustworthy or any other word that is commonly associated with (ex-)Death Eaters. However, I will do my best to change your mind about him in the next few paragraphs._

_In the beginning of the year, I was not sure at all whether Mr. Malfoy was the right person for this job at Hogwarts. I doubted him and actually wanted him to be gone. To be entirely honest, I was sure he would bring us all to ruin, ‘us’ being the Slytherin students. I thought I knew him from the stories that had been circulating about him and his children. I thought I knew how to judge him because I thought I had an objective knowledge around him._

_I used to think that Mr. Malfoy was a power hungry, inhumane, and disgusting sample of humankind. He was just like his father: just as eager to kill, just as arrogant and just as convinced of the pureblood superiority. He must be, right, with his history, his family and his Mark?_

_Yes, the Dark Mark. Even though he keeps it carefully hidden under long sleeves and a watch, it glares at me and taunts me. I know it’s there, and it made me angry every time I saw Mr. Malfoy. I judged him for it, just like you readers probably do. I – and maybe you recognise yourself in it – couldn’t see further than the few lines on his forearm and the meaning behind them. I thought Mr. Malfoy was nothing more than that tattoo._

_I wanted to have Mr. Malfoy gone. Far, far away. Preferably in Azkaban, or, if that wasn’t possible, dead. That was all I wished for._

_But then some things happened. We Slytherins, most of us have been bullied as first-years, because people wanted us to know that we were unwelcome. Some people have been through worse things than others, but all of us have been hurt, one way or another. The only teacher to ever find out that we were being bullied, was Mr. Malfoy. The only teacher to ever do something about it, was Mr. Malfoy. The only teacher to ever get our assaulters expelled, was Mr. Malfoy._

_He is all about justice. And it may be because he knows the consequences of injustice first-hand, or because he feels guilty for all he has done or what he has been part of. I don’t know. I don’t care. I only know that he fights for what he believes is right, and that he is loyal to a fault._

_He protects who he loves, and does that even when it is not profitable for him. Do you think it was profitable for him to get two students with powerful families expelled from the only Wizarding School in Britain? I can assure you, it wasn’t. If Headmistress McGonagall hadn’t believed him, he would have been dismissed at the spot and lost any chance of getting another job._

_I may need to explain myself a bit better._

_In the beginning of the year, I hated Mr. Malfoy with all my heart. My parents were Death Eaters, and Mr. Malfoy was the one to say their name during his trials. A few months back, they were caught, and they are still in Azkaban, awaiting their final sentence. I wanted to get my revenge on Mr. Malfoy, and I wanted it fast, because I knew that Mr. Malfoy had no heart or regret._

_Until his son, Scorpius, was beaten up and gotten unconscious. The first thing Mr. Malfoy did, was make sure all Slytherins were comforted and cheered up. He sang songs for us, danced and acted, until we felt good enough to go to bed. I walked up to him when everyone was gone, and apologised for how I had acted. Then he told me that he was sorry, too. That he regretted it. And that he would never have stood there before me, if it wasn’t for second chances._

_And he told me that he stood for his mistakes. That he wouldn’t have done it any other way, because it had made him the man he was now: a man he could be proud of to be. He said he would never deny what he did, and that he would never apologise for being who he is._

_He taught me that mistakes are part of life, and that no one should ever be judged for the mistakes they made._

_People should only be judged for the mistakes they didn’t learn from._

_To me, Draco Malfoy is a hero. He was a Death Eater. He wears the Mark. He is a Potions Master and a Slytherin. And he is my hero. For teaching me to be proud of myself and of my parents, whatever they did and whatever they have done._

_Mom, Dad, I love you. I’ll visit you soon, all right?”_

When Narcissa looked up from the paper, she saw that Draco was smiling slightly, which wasn’t surprising. What _was_ surprising, however, was the tears streaming down Lucius’s cheek. Narcissa smiled at him.

Everything could learn something from Draco, it appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The series Suits just uploaded in my country, so that I now can watch season 5 and I'm going crazy over here. I'M GOING CRAZY I'M TELLING YOU
> 
> Favourite comment on chapter 51:   
> 'Excuse me
> 
> *inhales*
> 
>  
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH'


	53. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is this week's chapter. It's reeeaaaally short, but I'll make it up in the next chapter. At least now, I'm up-to-date and the amount of words is approximately correct again with how it's supposed to be.

It was a week later, and Malfoy had lost all capability of speaking for longer periods. He could answer simple questions in monosyllables, but everything more than that took too much energy and resulted in sudden naps or heart failure. At least, that is what the Healers told Harry right before he entered the room.

“Don’t expect much of him. He can’t do much anymore. It’s a miracle if he does more than smile or nod at you,” the nurse warned him.

Harry nodded. “I understand. In a few days, he will get better, won’t he? This is just the bad part he needs to get through.”  
The Healer swallowed twice, not looking at Harry. “I’m sure he will be relieved from his pain very soon, sir.”  
“Good. That’s all I need to hear.” He smiled at the Healer and walked into the room, not hesitating to sit down on the bed and giving Draco a kiss on the temple. “Hi, Malfoy. I hear you’ve been troubling the Healers. Why can’t you give everyone some rest, even when you are in the hospital, huh?”

When he didn’t get a response, Harry made himself a cup of tea. “I miss you, Malfoy. Hogwarts is silent without you. I have never had more than two weeks without you around. And now, you have been held in custody, and then in St. Mungo’s. It is getting boring. Can’t you think of something more original?”

A soft huff sounded from Malfoy, making Harry preen. “I still manage to get a reaction out of you, even though the Healer said it would be a miracle to hear something from you. Some things never change, do they?”  
Malfoy huffed again, followed by a deep, shaky inhale and something that sounded like a word.

“Did you say something?”

The word-like exhale sounded again, but Harry had no idea what he was saying.

“Hold on, I can place a Sonorus on you, so I can actually hear you,” Harry smiled, doing as he said. Then, the exhale was finally audible, even though it was still a whisper.

“Miracle.”  
“What’s a miracle? That I made you say something?”  
“You.”

Harry laid down next to Malfoy, with his ear close to Malfoy’s mouth.

“Are you calling me a miracle?”

He felt Malfoy nod lightly.

“Thank you. I love you, Malfoy.”  
“You.”  
“What about me?”  
“You.”  
“Yes?”  
“You.”

Harry chuckled. “You aren’t making sense. Can I take off the Sonorus?” Feeling the barely-there nod, Harry took off the charm and put away his wand.

“James wanted me to say hi. He’s diligently working on something, although I have no idea what it is. He has gotten in touch with your father, did you know?”

Malfoy hummed now.

“They have been exchanging letters for the better part of two weeks. It’s terrifying. I would never have thought to hear of Lucius Malfoy and James Potter civilly owling each other. We established things no one could have dreamed off, Malfoy. Just the two of us, we’ve made two rival families – three, if you count the Weasleys – build some bridges and put the past behind them. We are a good team.”

Harry squeezed Malfoy’s hand, just to reassure himself that Malfoy was still with him. He barely felt Malfoy’s heart beating in his wrist.

“We could achieve anything we wanted to, you know. I think the Potter and Malfoy qualities are highly compatible. Stubbornness, pride, intelligence, courage. Loyalty. If we had been Auror partners, we would be unbeatable. Don’t you think?”

A small twitch in Malfoy’s fingers, resulting in their hands being almost linked, but not quite. Harry moved his hand to close the gap between them. He suddenly remembered a similar situation during Christmas, when Malfoy had been deadly afraid of doing something wrong, but still intertwined the tips of their fingers on the couch with the Weasleys.

How much things could change in six months.

“I decided I will keep my last name, Malfoy. I will remain Malfoy-Potter, for official business. So will my children. I promise. I won’t leave you.”

There was a wild movement – as far as Malfoy could make wild movements at this point – and a frown appeared between his eyes.

“No, don’t protest. I don’t want to move on to someone else. I don’t think there is someone else. You _are_ my someone else. You know you are. We are counterparts, right? Stag and doe? We complete each other. You are the balance to my chaos, remember? I’m the chaos to your balance? No one can beat that, Malfoy. No one.”

The frown disappeared, making way for a light smile and a peaceful closing of eyes. Harry shot up.

“No, no, don’t die. Do _not_ die. Not now. Don’t die yet. I can’t lose you yet. Just a few more days until the worst is over. After that, everything will get better. Please, Malfoy.”

A deep inhale, resulting in the shocking of Malfoy’s chest until he broke out in weak, rasping coughs. Then, his eyes flew open, locking on Harry’s.

He nodded.

“A few more days, yeah? Then, everything will be okay,” Harry whispered. Malfoy nodded again, once.

Harry relaxed against the cushions, trying to calm his rabbiting heart.

It was a bitter thought. Malfoy’s heart was giving up, beating slower and slower until Malfoy would either die because his organs failed, or because he gave up life. At the same time, adrenaline was coursing through Harry’s veins, making his heart speed up with every time Malfoy’s breathing hitched, or his fingers twitched, or his eyes closed.

If only there was a charm to make Malfoy feel the way Harry felt. If only there was –

There was. Of course, there was.

“Malfoy. Malfoy, listen. What was that spell they used on you, to make you feel what Cassie felt during her birth?”

Malfoy opened his eyes, first clouded by confusion, but then sagging closed again. He shook his head.

“No, really, Malfoy, it will work. This way, we will be connected, just like you were with Cassie. You will feel my heartbeat, and I will feel yours, and my heartbeat will power yours.”

Shaking his head again, Malfoy opened and closed his mouth as if he was saying something.

“Don’t protest. You know it will work. Of course it will!”  
“’t Won’t,” Malfoy’s voice suddenly sounded, as clear as possible in the current circumstances.  
“Why not?”  
Malfoy made a croaking sound in the back of his throat, trying to get the right words out. Harry stroked his cheek, offering him a sip of tea. When Malfoy nodded, he pulled back and waited.

“’Sn’t how th’ spell works. Feel ev’rything but not real. Not real, P’tt’r.”

Harry swallowed. “You don’t know. We can try. James is good with inventing things. Lily is incredible with spells and charms. They can work something out. And didn’t Neville have those Curse Breakers friends that helped you invent the spell for your potions experiments? We can speed up the healing process, Malfoy. Don’t give up now.”

Malfoy shook his head again, muscles in his hands tensing and relaxing in a distressed rhythm.

“We can do this. You know we can. We can at least try?” Harry offered. He sighed when he didn’t get a response anymore. “Or not.”

He rested his head against the pillow, trailing his fingers along Malfoy’s face, neck, collarbones, chest, arms.

“Hold on. What are you wearing?” Harry asked when he noticed it wasn’t the ugly blue hospital gown that was usual for St. Mungo’s patients. “Is that –“

Pushing the covers back, Harry revealed a thick, much too warm piece of clothing. It was red, old, with a faded lion printed on it.

“Is that the Muggle hoodie of mine? The one you told me about, the one you showed me? How did that get here?”

Malfoy smiled, lifting his hand a centimetre.

“Who brought you this? Because if it would have been your children, or your friends, I would have known. Right? And I can’t imagine your _father_ giving you this hoodie. Your mother perhaps? She gave it to you in the first place, didn’t she?”

A huff sounded from Malfoy again, and a faint smirk had formed around his lips. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“It _was_ your father, then? Wow. There really are miracles happening. Perhaps Merlin is on your side.”

Malfoy smiled at him, but nothing else much. Harry smiled back, swallowing, but pasting another bright smile on his face. When looking around the room – in order to not have to look at Malfoy’s terrifyingly pale face and hollow eyes, although he wouldn’t admit it to himself – Harry saw a thick piece of parchment on Malfoy’s nightstand.

_‘To Potter_ ’ was written on it, in a shaky, almost unreadable handwriting. Harry curiously bent forward to pick it up and fold it out. It was a letter, more than four feet long. The first words were written in neat, cursive handwriting, which got increasingly worse, until the handwriting changed entirely.

Harry hesitated. Was he supposed to read it? Of course, it was addressed to him, so if there was anyone that should be allowed to read it, it was him. Though, there was something about it that made him stop. It felt wrong to read it with Malfoy next to him, asleep and unaware. But surely Malfoy must have known that he would find the letter? Surely, Malfoy must have placed it there intentionally?

Deciding that it couldn’t really be a bad thing, Harry settled down next to Malfoy and started reading the letter.

“ _Dear Potter,_

_The moment I am writing this, I am ill and taken up in St. Mungo’s, where I can hear the Healers whispering just outside my door. They are worried, Potter. Very worried. They think I don’t know, but I see the looks they share. Everyone has always underestimated me in my ability to read and understand looks and body language._

_Even when I’m lying in a hospital bed, and unable to do more than write three words a minute – you know I’m not exaggerating now – it vexes me how everyone thinks I know nothing and understand even less._

_But I wasn’t writing this to tell you what my annoyances are. You already know._

_Potter, I am dying. I know it, the Healers know it, and I know you know it. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen your tears as well._

_The curse has hit me straight in my heart, and pepper-up potions don’t work. I will be dead in a few weeks, and at that point, I won’t have spoken or moved for a couple of days already. My heart is stopping and I should be lucky that I can even write this. I’ve been working on this letter ever since I received my parchment._

_They haven’t told you what the curse is, have they? I made them promise._

_It’s a Dark curse. A very difficult and unknown one. The person who did this, must either have been close to Death Eaters, or was there when someone else became victim. And that person is magically very capable._

_All this doesn’t matter, because I will die anyway and you will never find who did it._

_I need you to promise me something. Take care of my children. My parents will be all right, they will seclude themselves and live some more years, until they die peacefully and my children can arrange respectful funerals according to pureblood traditions._

_I just ask you to ensure my children won’t need to arrange my funeral. That they can still live their lives like the children they are. They don’t deserve the kind of childhood we had._

_I want Scorpius to become Prime Minister of the Wizarding World. It’s his deepest wish, although he thinks I don’t know. And he would be good, you know he would. He would listen to everyone’s worries, he would love every soul who’d seek his help, and he would understand the paperwork and political game like no one else._

_I want Scorpius to be able to be the big brother I know he is. The brother that protects Ophiuchus and motivates Cassiopeia. The brother that supports Aquila. The best friend that laughs at all of Albus’s stupid jokes. The loving pet over Lily’s hair. The reliable listener to Jamie’s potions troubles._

_The determined force behind every action, every protest, every conviction._

_Aquila wants a family, and preferably with Matias. She also wants to become a Quidditch player professionally or start working with magical creatures. She devoured every ‘Fantastic Creatures’ book when she was only six. And if all that doesn’t work out, she’ll become an Auror. But having her own children is unnegotiable. Giver the option to be whoever and whatever she wants to be. Support her with everything you’ve got, even if it’s just a pat on her shoulder when she needs it. She will be great, no matter what she will be doing. Allow her to do what she wants, allow her to drown herself in work, reading and learning. It’s her way of mourning. Let her be. Don’t label her. Don’t force her to be something she’s not._

_Cassiopeia acts carefree and as if she doesn’t know what she wants, but it’s actually the opposite. She knows exactly what she wants and is working her ass off to realise them. I won’t tell you what it is, you may find out yourself if you pay attention. But can you guarantee that you’ll do what she asks, when she asks? She needs help, a lot of it, but you won’t be able to help if you don’t know what she wants. Just love her, and she will love you unconditionally. She is so strong, so incredibly ambitious and so unbelievably stubborn. Undoubtedly, she will do whatever she wants, whether you support her or not, but I need you to promise that you will. She sometimes has a hard believing she is loved. Assure her that she is._

_The same goes for Ophiuchus. The love part. He wants to be a Potions Master, like me. I don’t know whether he will make it, because I think he won’t have the control and patience for it. Lead him through life, to the point where he can live his own. It will take a while, because he is so young still, and he is so attached to his youth. I had to carry him onto Platform 9 ¾ this year. I can’t imagine how scarred he will be when I die._

_How scarred they will all be._

_They are young. Merlin, they are so young. They won’t have biological parents anymore, not really. And they are only teenagers still. The pain they will go through._

_I have taken to a Self-Inking Quill, ‘cause I can only talk at this point. It’ll be soon, Potter, I can feel it._

_There is more I want to say. My children need you, Potter. More than anything else. No one knows them like you do now. There’s no one they trust as they trust you. You’re everything for them. Ev’rything they’ve got left at this point. Can you take them up and be everything for them? Can you treat them as your own?_

_Ah yes, your own children. I needed to talk about ‘em as well. You know them well, but I think I may know things I should tell you._

_James feels very responsible, but in the bad way. He got that from you. He thinks he should be able to fix everything, help ev’ryone. He hates himself when he can’t. He even thinks it’s somehow his fault that I’m in th’ospital. It isn’t. James feels like he should carry the world, and you’ve to help him. don’t tell him he’s wrong, but reassure him, calm him._

_Albus still doesn’t know what to do with himself. What it means that he’s a Slyth’rin and how he should feel ‘bout it. There’s one thing he’s sure f, and that’s his love for his family – including Scorp. Give ‘im his family and friends and he’ll get through._

_The truth ‘s, Lily has no deep insecurities, fears or wishes that I know of. But she’s very perceptive. Don’t you dare underestimate her: she’s one of the most precious girls I’ve ever met. Dýou know that she was the one to teach my children and all Slyth’rins to knit, during my trials? She might be the brightest of our set of seven, P’tter. P’rhaps she’s the strong’st one too._

_I trusted you w’th m’ life. More oft’n than you realised. I trusted y’ with m’ parents, m’ sanity, m’ weakn’sses._

_C’n I trust you now w’th m’ children?_

_But P’tter, ‘m not finished yet. I want you to know that even though we had a rocky starts this year. I love you so much. I don’t even know what t’ do w’ myself. You’re all I could ev’r ‘ve wished for._

_I don’t know what our last conv’rsation will be, but it’ll be soon. A few m’re days at most. I barely even feel an’thing an’more._

_Hope our last conv’rs’tion ‘ll ‘ve been good. P’rhaps I got to tell you one last time th’t I l’ve you. As painf’l as ‘t is for me to speak. You’ll’ve blushed and waved it ‘way. Maybe you said it back. But I know wh’t your face’ll’ve looked like. Your eyes’re soft, so soft. And your smiles loses its sadness f’r just a sec’nd. ‘ll you’ve taken my hand and squeezed it, like you do when I’m tired?_

_Sal’zar, I hope you’ll’ve been able to kiss me bef’re I went completely powerless ‘nd still. You kissing me ‘s the favour’te thing in the world. No. Your pr’sence already has that title. I don’t r’lly care ‘bout an’thing else._

_Just occurred to me that you may be angry w’ me in our last conv’rs’tion. ‘ve I been a jerk again? Wouldn’t surprise me. ‘m sorry if I’ve. Was prob’bly tryin’ to make m’ death easier f’r y’. If y’ hate me, y’ won’t be able to cry f’r me._

_Pl’se don’t cry, P’tter. Can’t bear the thougth. Don’t want you sad, rather ‘ve you angry. Ang’r means there’s still spark left. And it’s famil’r feeling ‘round me, right?_

_P’tter, I’ll miss you so much. Bloody hell, I’ll miss you. Y’ mean ev’rything to me, love. Know I sound like ‘m givin’ up on life, but know th’ curse and there’s r’lly nothing you can do. It’s ‘kay. You’ll be ‘kay._

_Right now, you’re sitting in the chair b’side my bed, holding m’ hand, sleepin’._

_‘ve I ev’r told you how b’tiful you’re? ‘cause you’re. never got to ‘ppreciate it ‘nough. Not even someth’ng can explain, just is._

_You sleep like a baby, P’tter. All curled up, smile on y’r face, frownless forehead. Now you’re moving, seekin’ more warmth. R’lly P’tter, d’you need so much space?_

_M’rlin, think of how much space you’ll have when ‘m gone. Don’t want to pict’re it. Don’t want to see y’ w’ someone else. But you should. Som’ne bett’r than me, som’ne worthy of y’r unruly hair ‘nd annoying habits ‘nd M’ggle band shirts._

_Know won’t b’able to say much today or in comin’ days. Heart’s barely beatin’ an’more. ‘ll keep it short. This might be th’ last day I’ll write or say an’thing. One more day of showin’ y’ how much love y’._

_‘S not ‘nough. Nev’r ‘nough. Throat hurts. S’rry._

_I love y’. So much. M’rlin, pl’se, let me die. L’ve y’._

_Love._

_Love._

_Love._

_I._

_Love._

_You._

_How c’n I be clearer?_

_L’ve y’. Love._

_Harry.”_

When Harry looked up, Malfoy’s eyes were closed and his chest didn’t move.


	54. James

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slightly late. I am slightly sorry. But hey, I got a life. Whoohoo!

Hogwarts wasn’t the same without papa around, James mused. He rubbed his forehead. If only he could find a way to make everyone less sullen, less down. Not even products from the Wheezes helped. He hated it.

As he tried explaining the workings of some simple potion to a first-year class, he couldn’t help but get distracted. He coughed to gain time and gather his thoughts so he could continue.

“All right. However improbable it seems, every action, every movement and every thought has an effect on the potion you are making. Magic is highly susceptible to intention and emotions. I think Professor Malfoy has talked to you about this in the beginning of the year, but I will elaborate on it. Making a potion is not only throwing ingredients together and stirring at the right moments. All the great Potion Masters know this. They know that there has to be – how do I call it? – wonder. Wonder of the magic swirling around in a liquid. Wonder of the results it could have. That is why so many Potion Masters are Slytherins: Slytherins see beyond the here and now. They see the long-term effects, the consequences for the future. The most powerful potions are those made with wonder.”

The students looked at him with frowns on their faces – or tired expressions. James sighed.

“Where did I lose you?”  
A ginger girl chuckled. “At about the moment you started talking about magic being susceptible to emotions. How can that be?”  
“Well, magic is a personal thing. Why do you think everyone has a different wand? Why do you think not everyone is as good at Charms or Potions?”  
“That’s obvious, isn’t it? Not every is as good in maths as well. Everyone has their own talents,” someone else perked up.  
“But talent wouldn’t affect anything that isn’t personal and private. Let me rephrase it. Magic depends on character, strengths, weaknesses, interests. Everyone has their own magic. Even Muggles. And that magical core, that very unique fingerprint, it defines the spells you cast. Your wand chooses you, based on the compatibility of your magical core and its own. The combination of the wand – that is, essentially, the making tangible of your magical core – and your core can make or break the effects of your potions.”

A boy frowned. “That sounds like a load of nonsense.”  
“Does it?”  
“Yes! Magic is magic, right? How can everyone have a unique magical core?”  
“You’re Muggleborn, aren’t you? Do you know the basics of genetics?” James asked. When the boy nodded, he continued. “The chances are minimal that two people on Earth have the exact same genetics and genetic expression. Only identical twins have that. And magic is part of that genetic package. Some people have dormant magic, some people don’t have it at all, and others have it up and kicking. Just like any other genes.”  
“So what does this have to do with brewing?” a cheeky Hufflepuff inquired.

Smiling, James picked up his wand and summoned a cauldron and a variety of ingredients. He lit the fire under the cauldron and started making a basis with practised movements.

“As I was saying, magic is susceptible to intention and emotion, because it is drawn from your core, from your genes. Therefore, when brewing a potion, you have to know what you are doing and why you are doing it; otherwise, the magic will get confused and your potion won’t work properly. Focussing during brewing will result in less unwanted side-effects, because the magic will be focussed on the main goal as well. Chatting with friends is therefore not a good idea.”

He poured a slimy purple drab into the cauldron, watching it sputter and bubble for a moment before continuing.

“Apart from focus, there also needs to be a proper emotion. Anger will make the potion take effect too early and too abruptly. Sadness dilutes it, as if you’ve added too much water. Desperation isn’t good either. Desperation makes a potion unreliable, as it will affect the body desperately, affecting parts of the body that do not need to be affected, or becoming far too strong in its effects. Potioneers must therefore always be in full control of their emotions, able of presenting the emotion the potion needs, even if they don’t feel that way.”

Suddenly, James stilled. Somewhere in the beginning of the year, when he had invented his own potion, papa had said that he had tried inventing a counterpotion for some kind of complex spell. He hadn’t managed then.

Papa was the best potioneer James had ever heard of. He was capable of brewing every potion he wanted. So the only reason he wouldn’t have been able to invent a counterpotion, was if he let his emotions rule his actions. If he couldn’t control his emotions anymore.

And there could have been only one time in history that papa would not have been able to fully control his emotions. Only one or two years. The war. It had been during the war. Papa had tried to invent a counterpotion to something during the war. But what spell? Obviously something that had papa angry, sad and desperate. Obviously something that was personal for him. Something that had hurt him? The Cruciatus curse? No, that wasn’t challenging enough, not special enough. It wouldn’t have papa in desperation.

Something that made him feel guilty? Something he had done wrong and tried to right again? That sounded more like papa. That sounded – plausible, actually.

There was a bell ringing in his head, something trying to alarm him that he knew where to look. Right! One of Mr. Malfoy’s letters! He had said that papa had proposed a spell to Voldemort during the war. _Asthenos stenos_ , or something. Why did that ring a bell, why -

“Sir? Mr. Potter? Are you okay?” a first-year asked, shaking James from his musings.  
“Yes, yes, sorry,” James smiled. He exhaled softly, after which he continued his lesson.

During lunch, Suzanne couldn’t seem to get through to James. He remained silent, leaning his head on his hand. At one point, he even snapped at her and stormed away.

He needed some time alone. He needed to _think_ , for Merlin’s sake.

James grabbed some parchment and started to write down his thoughts.

_Papa: invent counterpotion. Not working. Too emotional? - > guilty_   
_Letter Mr. Malfoy: papa spell to Voldemort, Asthenos stenos. Why did he mention this? What’s the significance?_

_Perhaps papa guilty over Asthenos stenos? Trying to find counterpotion?_

“That means papa must have notes somewhere!” James exclaimed to the empty hallway. Gathering his parchment and his coat, he ran outside, ignoring the calls from classmates, in the direction of Hogsmeade. There, he Apparated to where he knew he would find what he needed.

A house-elf opened the door for him. “What can I help you with, sir?”  
“I’m here to see Mr. Lucius Malfoy? Is he home? It’s urgent.”  
“Is he expecting your visit, sir?”  
James sighed. “It’s about his son.”  
“Just a minute, sir.”

The house-elf disappeared, only to reappear within the minute, accepting James’s coat and leading him inside. They ascended a massive staircase, strolled through a hallway or two, crossed some large rooms, until they stood in front of a heavy mahogany door.

“In here, sir,” the house-elf said, before bowing and popping away. The door opened when James merely looked at it, which he took as an invitation to come in. There, between bookcases that reached the ceiling and beside a large unlit hearth, was Mr. Malfoy, with a curious expression.

“James. What a pleasure to meet you, after exchanging so many letters. How are you? Have a seat.”  
Shaking Mr. Malfoy’s hand, James smiled. “Thank you. I realise I’m quite unexpected, but –“  
“Oh no, never mind that. You practically are family now, aren’t you? I hear you’ve taken the double last name. Malfoy-Potter. Who would have thought!”  
“Yes, well, let’s just say no one can deny there was some tension between Dad and papa, right? Always has been, always will be,” James chuckled.  
Mr. Malfoy laughed along. “Quite. Now, I heard you were here to talk about my son. I would have called my wife to join us, if I had thought there was a change in his condition. As we weren’t called to the hospital, I assumed that wasn’t the case. Care to enlighten me?”  
“Yes, right, well, actually, ehm. You mentioned the _Asthenos stenos_ curse in one of your letters. What is this curse?”  
“Ah.” Lucius shifted in his chair and folded his hands. “It weakens that which an individual values most about themselves. Quite tragic.”  
“Is that the curse papa gave to Voldemort?”

James saw a flinch in Mr. Malfoy’s expression, only belatedly realising that naming that name in the Malfoy Manor might not be the best idea.

“It is, unfortunately. Rather ironic, isn’t it?”  
“And is it the curse that papa tried to invent a counterpotion for?”  
“How do you –“  
“He told me. Is it? Is it that curse?”  
Lucius cleared his throat. “Yes. Why do you want to know?”  
“It’s just… If papa gave that curse to Vol- to Tom Riddle, then he must have been able to invent a counterpotion, right? Papa is the best potioneer in the world.”  
“He is, indeed. However, the fact that he found the curse somewhere, doesn’t mean that he knew how it worked or how to counter it. He didn’t invent it.”  
“He didn’t? Where does it come from then? How old is the spell? Who invented it?”

Pouring two glasses of water, Lucius settled himself in a bit more. “It’s about a thousand years old, I believe. I have no idea who invented it, but I know that it was used by Curse Breakers. During the 1100’s, Curse Breakers were just Aurors with some extra diplomas, and those Curse Breakers often used the spell for long-term criminals they couldn’t catch otherwise.”

“Hold on. Curse Breakers? It was used by _Curse Breakers_?” James asked. “Mr. Malfoy, will you help me?”  
“With what?”  
“Just wait and see. Come on, we need to go to Gringotts.”  
“Why there?”  
“Bill Weasley. Side-Along me!”

Without further questioning, Mr. Malfoy took James’s arm and Apparated them to Gringotts, where James immediately sprinted to the reception area.

“I need to speak to Bill Weasley, please,” he asked kindly.  
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley is currently not able to receive visitors. Can I leave a message?”  
“No, that’s all right,” James growled. He slinked back to Mr. Malfoy, who wore an imperial expression with a hint of amusement.

“James, what did you think would happen?”  
“I don’t know, perhaps the receptionist could have recognised me as Harry “the Saviour” Potter’s son?”  
Mr. Malfoy laughed. “Come on.” He pushed James in front of him and walked to the gates to offices and staff areas, moving as if he knew what he was doing and as if he did this all the time. Unsheathing his wand without anyone noticing, he mumbled a charm that James didn’t recognise, and the gates waved open.

“Now, pretend you belong here and everything will be all right. Straight back, chin up. Why don’t Potters maintain a proper posture? You are just as bad as your father and grandfather before you.”

They arrived at another locked door, where two guards were standing and looking at them suspiciously.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Malfoy started. “We were told to go this way. We are on our way to Mr. William Weasley? His office is in this part, isn’t it?”  
“No one is allowed in there, sir. I’m afraid you have been sent in the wrong direction. If you want to visit any employees, you will have to meet in the central hall.”  
“I see. A misunderstanding then. Could you perhaps send him a message then? James – that is, James Potter – has had a fight with his father, and he would like to speak to his uncle about what to do next. Uncle Bill has always given the best advice, you see.”

The guards shared a look, after which the door slid open and they were waved through. “Good luck, sirs,” they said in unison.

Mr. Malfoy placed a hand on James’s shoulder, steering him in the direction of Bill’s office.

“That was cool,” James remarked.  
“Don’t lose your composure, there are more guards there. Keep walking. Don’t hesitate to throw your last name around a bit.”  
“That’s vulgar.”  
“It absolutely is,” Mr. Malfoy agreed. “But you thought it was necessary, and I am only helping you on your way. As you asked.”

They managed to pass the other guards as well, until they were stood in front of a door that said ‘Curse Breaker Weasley. Senior associate. Second in command.’ James pushed the door open to reveal a large office room with Bill in black trousers and white shirt, his uniform hanging on a coat rack in the corner.

“James? What are you doing here? With Lucius Malfoy of all people?”  
“That book, the book papa gave you with Christmas. Do you have it?”  
“Wha – yes, I do, but – James, don’t go searching through my stuff. I’ll get it for you. What do you need it for?”

Mr. Malfoy brushed some imaginary dust from his robes. “My apologies, Mr. Weasley. James came to me to talk about Draco, and then recruited me to come to Gringotts and visit you. As it concerns my son, I could hardly refuse. I hope we aren’t interrupting anything important?”

Bill smiled. “Well, I was just preparing for a meeting, but I suppose it can wait, if it’s about Draco.” He pulled a book from the shelves and handed it to James. “ _Ancient Curse Breaker Curses_. What are you going to do with it, James?”  
James leafed through the book, exclaiming softly when he found what he was looking for. “Here it is! _The Asthenos stenos curse consists of seven components. First, there is the incantation (_ Asthenos stenos _). Second, the wand movement (a swish like Wingardium Leviosa, then a Z-like zap, as if the Killing Curse is on its side). Thirdly, the intention (to hurt and torture, never_ _to kill). Fourth component is the emotion (not anger, as often thought, but viciousness). The fifth is something unique for the victim, something personal, something irreplaceable. Then comes control (over emotions, power of spell and direction of the spell), and last is speed (the spell needs to be cast slowly, as if there is all the time in the world)._ ”

Bill frowned. “So? What use is that?”  
“Don’t you get it? We can brew a counterpotion now! We have all the components that need to be countered, so now we only have to find the ingredients.”  
Mr. Malfoy closed his eyes for a second, before walking up to James and placing a heavy hand on his shoulder again. “James. That won’t be necessary.”  
“Of course it is! We have to save papa somehow.”  
“It won’t work.”  
“He’s not dead yet! We can work something out, I know we can.”  
“How do you know he’s dying? Never mind that, James, I need you to realise that… Draco is… He is in a late stadium. It would take too much time to brew a counterpotion. He will be dead by the time we are done.”  
James shook his head. “No, _no_! Don’t you understand? Potions can be brewed in an hour or two. The only thing that takes time is figuring out which ingredients to use, but we already know that.”  
“It is a very complex spell. Don’t you think that the counterpotion will be complex as well? It could take months, years even. Besides, we only know which components we have to counter, but we have no idea which ingredients we’ll need for that.”

Pulling Bill along, James rushed out of the room, with the book in his other hand, murmuring about this and that. He called out for the Malfoy Lodge, to which Mr. Malfoy and Bill quickly Apparated as well.

“Sir, my Master is not present – Oh! Master Lucius!”  
“Hello, Harky. This is James Potter, and Bill Weasley. May we come in for a moment?”  
Harky opened the door for them, and set about making tea while James asked Mr. Malfoy to bring him to the laboratory.

“No one is supposed to go in there, James, only his children.”  
“Ah ah, but I am one of his children now, aren’t I? James Malfoy-Potter, at your service. Come on, please, Mr. Malfoy. _Please_.”  
Reluctantly, Mr. Malfoy pointed at the door to the lab, which James opened eagerly and bounded down the stairs. After a moment, he heard Bill and Mr. Malfoy follow him.

“Okay. All right.” He set up the cauldron and opened the book at the right page. “The incantation, that stands for the spell itself, so the effects of the incantation are weakening some part of the human body. To counter that, we need a strengthening ingredient, something like unicorn blood or Motherwort. Or both, really, because unicorn blood keeps a person alive, and Motherwort has healing remedies.”

While he was talking, he jumped around in the laboratory to grab whichever ingredient he was thinking about in that moment.

“The wand movement defines the exact effect of a spell, so in this case, weakening that which is valued the most by the victim. So we need something that revives the heart, something… Aha! I see Wiggentree. We can use that as well. The Wiggentree protects against Dark magic, so we may as well throw that in. But I don’t see something for the heart, except for – yes, Maw. Exactly what I was hoping to find. It is also used in potions for elderly with weak hearts.”

James ordered Mr. Malfoy to start making a base for the potion while he continued his search for ingredients.

“The intention now, so we have to find something that counters a hurting or torturing ingredient. Very simple, this. We need balm. Preferably eucalyptus or aloe vera. Why doesn’t papa have eucalyptus? Okay, it’ll be aloe vera then. Next, the emotion. Emotion is viciousness, commonly associated with asphodel. How does one counter asphodel?”

“May I say something?” Mr. Malfoy said. “Asphodel can be countered with a peacock feather, which I always have in my pocket. Here you go. How did you learn all that, by the way?”

James grabbed the feather from Mr. Malfoy’s hands and put it down with the other ingredients. “No time to talk. Something unique for the victim, something unique. How can there be an ingredient unique to the victim? What is this nonsense?”  
“Dragon Claw Ooze, James, upper left corner of that shelf. Draco, dragon. Come on, hurry up,” Mr. Malfoy urged. “The basis is almost done, and then we need to start immediately. I adapted it to work speedily.”  
“Of course!” James exclaimed. “Adaptation! Control is next, control over the direction et cetera, and we can only counter that by adding Devil’s Snare, but not regular Devil’s Snare, no, adapted ones. Neville has that, we need Neville’s Snare. Bill. Bill? Bill, I need you to go to Hogwarts and ask Neville for his Devil’s Snare. Tell him I asked for it. Hurry up. Go! Come on, go, now!”

Confused, Bill ran up the stairs, after which they heard the front door slam shut.

“Now, okay, the last is speed. The spell needs to be cast slowly. What kind of effect does that have? I don’t know. I don’t bloody _know_! How could I know, this was not in any of the books I read? This is such bullshit, I don’t know what to do, shit, should I… No, I shouldn’t. Shit shit shit,” James murmured to himself. At a certain point, he saw Mr. Malfoy rolling his eyes and sighing. “What?”

Mr. Malfoy pointed at the cauldron. “A slow spell needs a speedy brewing of the counterpotion. That’s why I adapted the basis to speed up the brewing process. We have five more minutes, and if Bill isn’t back by then, we don’t stand a chance.”  
“Very good, yeah, he’ll be back. See, he’ll be back in just a second. I know he will. He must be,” James muttered. Right at that moment, they heard the door open again and heavy footsteps jump down the stairs. Bill stood in front of them with an entire branch of Devil’s Snare in his hand, panting and flushed from running.

“Now, James,” Mr. Malfoy started. “I am good at brewing, but I have no idea how to make a counterpotion. Do you know?”  
“I know enough, yeah. It’s the only option we still have, so we don’t really have a choice.”  
“Thirty seconds before the first ingredient needs to be added. Are you ready?”  
“As ready as I’ll ever be. If someone can start cutting up the Devil’s Snare, and juicing out the Motherwort, that’d be ace. Hand me the unicorn blood.”

Obediently handing the vial of unicorn blood, Mr. Malfoy summoned a knife – which barely missed Bill’s fingertips – and started crushing the Motherwort to extract the juice. “How much of this do you need?”  
“I have absolutely no idea. Just do everything, and I’ll see what I use when I use it. Bill, the Snare, please.”  
“Do you want it cut or crushed?”  
“Pulverised. Also, cut the Maw in thin leaves. Mr. Malfoy, Motherwort, _now_.”

The moment the Motherwort was added, the potion began bubbling and smoking.

“Is that good?” Bill wondered.  
“Who knows, the fumes could be poisonous and we could die before we finish the potion, but what does it matter? Mr. Malfoy, could you start on the Maw? You’re fast, I like that. Where did you leave the Wiggentree? _Where is the Wiggentree_? Thanks.” James placed the Wiggentree wood between his hands and started rubbing, resulting in tiny flakes floating into the potion. It turned purple, the smoke lessened, and there were sounds indicating some kind of small explosion within the cauldron.

“Now the rest of the Motherwort, please. Thank you. And are you done with the Maw yet? I need it in about… ten seconds.”  
Mr. Malfoy cursed when he cut himself with the knife he was holding, but managed to get the Maw into the potion in time. As Bill was stressing about the bleeding finger, Mr. Malfoy snapped at him to keep his mouth shut and continue on cutting the Devil’s Snare.

“Mr. Malfoy is right, Bill, no stress or desperation or anger. It will ruin the potion. Balm. Where is the balm? Ah, great, thanks. And the peacock feather? Does that need to be crushed as well, or just added as it is?”  
Mr. Malfoy frowned. “I’m not sure. In most potions, it just goes in as it is, but I know in some of the Darker potions, the feathers are pulled off of its trunk and added separately. The trunk is only added in the very last second, and would be used as a straw to drink from.”  
“Gross. We need to make this decision within thirty seconds. Is this a Dark potion or not?”  
“It’s a counterpotion against a Dark curse,” Mr. Malfoy mused.  
Bill rolled his eyes. “Unicorn blood is only used in Dark potions and by Dark wizards. It has no use in any other potion. If you say that unicorn blood is necessary to make this potion work, it’s Dark.”  
James nodded. “All right then. Take the feathers off, Mr. Malfoy and pour them into the potion. I need to check the book for a second.”

He leafed through the book and stared at the ingredients still waiting to be put in, then swore. “We made a mistake. We made a mistake. The Dragon Claw Ooze had to be poured into the basis. It’s unique to the victim, and the basis makes the potion, so it should have gone into the basis,” he wailed, until Mr. Malfoy gave him a rough clap on his shoulder.

“Look at the potion, James. It looks good. We didn’t make a mistake. This is the way it’s supposed to be. Now, Bill is almost done with the Devil’s Snare, and I think you need all of it. Pour in the Dragon Claw Ooze, start stirring. This looks like a proper, working potion to me, and I have seen many potions that weren’t going to work. No desperation, remember?”

James nodded, swallowing heavily before straightening his back and going back to the potion. He stirred it calmly, five times clockwise and fifteen times anti-clockwise. Then, he instructed Mr. Malfoy to start adding the Devil’s Snare gradually while he kept stirring. With every once he stirred, there should be a twelfth part of the Devil’s Snare added. Bill kept close eye on the amount Mr. Malfoy added, but it became abundantly clear that Mr. Malfoy really knew what he was doing.

“We’re almost done. Just need to let it settle,” James whispered.  
“How long will that take?”  
“And why are we whispering?”  
James chuckled. “I don’t know to both of your questions. But I think it won’t take long. If my estimations are correct, it should be a reddish colour.”  
“Why?” Mr. Malfoy questioned.  
“Because the spell was green.”

They watched the potion as it changed from black to yellow to green and finally to red-purple. James poured it in ten vials, several of which he put in his pocket before he stormed up to the stairs.

“I’m going to Mungo’s! I’ll see you there!” he called. He saw Mr. Malfoy talking to Harky and Bill dawdling at the door, but ignored it in favour of Apparating.

At the reception area, he didn’t wait, rather running through the hallways to papa’s room. It was late in the evening now, with barely anyone around. Maybe he should have gone to Hogwarts first, to let people know where he was. Or at least tell the others that he was working on a counterpotion.

Arriving at the right level, he bumped into papa’s Healer, who frowned down on him. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Visiting hours are long past.”  
“I know, I’m sorry, but I’m here for papa? Draco Malfoy? He’s in that room. Can I please see him?”  
“He is resting. I can’t let you in there.”  
“But –“  
“You should have come earlier,” the Healer said, guiding James away, back to the stairs. They heard chattering voices and running feet, which materialised in Mr. Malfoy with six children turning the corner and striding their way.

“Healer Roseval, let them in,” Mr. Malfoy ordered.  
“Sir, I can’t. The patient is resting.”  
“The patient is dying. Don’t you want his children to be able to say goodbye to them?”

Albus and Lily stared in shock at Mr. Malfoy. Right. They didn’t know papa was dying, yet.

“I understand, sir, but the visiting hours –“  
“Papa is _dying_?” Lily cut in. “Why did no one tell us?”  
“I thought he was just going through a rough patch because of the medicines, and he would get better after this! James, did you know?”  
James nodded. “I figured it out, yeah. But!” he added before Albus could start crying. “I have a counterpotion!”  
“What?” they chorused.  
“I don’t know if it will work, but it’s something. If I could just go in there, just to give him this potion, then we might not lose him.”

The Healer shook his head resolutely. “No way. No unknown potions or spells are allowed. Especially none that are brought by visitors. Who knows what the result is!”

James growled. “Papa will die in twenty-four hours anyway. You know that. You’ve seen him. If we don’t give him this potion, his death is certain. If we do give him the potion, he might survive. He could live for another how-many years. On the other hand, if the potion doesn’t work, he’s dead anyway, so it won’t make a difference.”  
“I can’t allow it.”  
“Didn’t you vow to always help people, try to keep them alive? Papa will die for sure if he doesn’t get this potion, but he may just have a chance. Please, sir. Just this once.”

Phi nodded, having turned into his black-haired version. “Harry Potter would be endlessly grateful for your dedication,” he added. The Healer sighed, but didn’t resist when James walked to papa’s door and opened it.

Dad was sitting there, on a chair in the dark, with his head between his hands. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“James,” he choked out. “James, you shouldn’t be here. He’s… it’s really bad now.”  
“I know he’s dying, Dad.”  
“It’s not long now,” Dad whispered. “Not long at all.”  
James pulled the vials from his pocket and the hollowed-out peacock feather trunk from where he usually sheathed his wand. “Dad, I need you to step away.”

Confusedly looking up, and trying to casually wipe away the tears gathered in his eyes, Dad shook his head. “No, I’ll stay here until it’s over. I’m not leaving.”  
James showed him the – now glittering red – potion. “Dad. I need you. To step away. From the bed. Now.”

Slowly, Dad stood up. “When did you make that? How do you know it will work? Will it work?”  
“I don’t know, but it can’t get worse than it is now, can it? Help me get papa sitting up, will you? Go sit behind him.”

Dad did as he was told, making papa sit up a bit so James could press the peacock straw to his lips. “Come on, papa, drink.”

Papa opened his mouth, but didn’t seem to be able to swallow. James looked around the room to find something that could help. His eyes lit up when he saw the baby cup on the table in the corner, with a lid and a small hole for a straw. He pushed the feather trunk through, poured the potion into the cup and held it to papa’s lips again.

“Your last ounce of strength, papa. Just the bit. Swallow. There you go,” James murmured. Dad leant his head on papa’s, kissing his crown softly and letting his tears fall on the uncared-for hair.

When the cup was empty, James and Dad looked expectantly at papa, waiting for some sign of life. Mr. Malfoy and the others had come in as well, staring from the doorway. The light still wasn’t on. The bed felt rough and unpleasant on James’s skin. The breeze from the window cooled down the hot, damp air of the room. Dad’s tears kept falling.

It was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What on Earth is that thing called on which all those little flakes of a feather are connected? I now call it a feather trunk, but that's utter shite. I mean. 'Hollowed-out peacock feather trunk'? What even is that? Why is there no word for that?
> 
> CAN SOMEONE END MY MISERY?!
> 
> Favourite Comment on the last chapter:  
> "NO UNDO IT
> 
>  
> 
> MAKE IT NOT HAPPEN
> 
>  
> 
> STOP
> 
>  
> 
> NO
> 
>  
> 
> NO
> 
>  
> 
> NOOOOOOOO"


	55. Awakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahum. It's been... two weeks. Sorry? BUT I was ill, so am I forgiven?
> 
> Anyway, the content of this chapter may be enough to forgive me, I don't know. Enjoy!

His eyes flew open, his chest lunged upwards, his breath came in one loud gasp.

“Jamie,” was the first thing Draco whispered, voice hoarse from several weeks of not being used. He closed his eyes again, breathing heavily through his nose and hand trembling from the sudden flow of blood. He swallowed.

“Wh’t happ’ned?” he managed then. “I’m s’pposed t’ be dead now. Why ‘m I not dead?”  
“Draco, please try to stop mumbling,” Lucius commented dryly. Phi grinned, giving his grandfather a shove. The two of them were the only ones that seemed to fully process that Draco was still alive.  
Draco smiled, already seeming stronger than before. “Hello to you too, Father. Jamie, what happened?”

Before James could answer, a heavy weight was lumped on Draco’s chest, with unruly black hair tickling Draco’s chin and obstructing his breathing a bit. Just a tad.

“Potter, I would like to see my son survive it now that it’s possible. Could you maybe not crush his chest now?” Lucius drawled.  
Potter sat up sheepishly, biting his lip while staring at Draco. “Your father is still insufferable, Malfoy,” he mumbled.

Staring between his father and Potter, Draco felt laughter bubbling up and decided to let it go. Even though he still sounded like he had been smoking since his birth, the broad grin on his children’s faces that broke through, were worth everything that had happened in the last weeks – months, even. Aquila stumbled her way to the bed, pressing her face in Draco’s neck – again resulting in black hair tickling his chin – and held herself very still. Draco just wrapped an arm around her, still not entirely sure that this was really happening.

“James Sirius Potter. Can you _please_ just tell me what happened?”

With glittering eyes and a disbelieving expression, James stutteringly started to explain.

“I – we, well. Okay. Listen. Eh. I was trying to brew a counterpotion, for whatever spell this was. I’ve been doing that for the last six weeks, actually, but I didn’t know the spell and I was just guessing to what ingredients I needed. It- it didn’t go so well, because my cauldron kept exploding. You may need to buy some more next summer,” he chuckled awkwardly. Draco rolled his eyes before motioning for him to continue.

“And I owl’ed your father, because I thought he might know some more. He didn’t really want to tell me anything, he was only hinting on this and that, and I got angry at him a couple of times.”  
“Ah well, I’m used to the male Potter line to be angry at me,” Lucius quipped.  
“Yeah, you certainly got a talent for that,” James grinned, turning back to Draco. “Anyway, suddenly, just today, I realised that you once mentioned you had tried to brew a counterpotion for something, and I thought – well, my thought process isn’t really interesting. But then I remembered that Mr. Malfoy had said something about the _Asthenos stenos_ curse, and I wondered if that could be this curse. So I Apparated to the Manor – which is quite a beautiful place, if I may say so – and talked to your father.”

Potter was absently threading his fingers through Draco’s hair, making it difficult for Draco to listen to James’s story, as it almost soothed him to sleep.

“And then we went to Bill, to get that book you gave him for Christmas, and with the three of us, we managed to brew the counterpotion within a couple of minutes, Apparated to St. Mungo’s, blackmailed the Healer into letting us give it to you, and wait for you to respond to the potion.”

“Right. And how did you manage to brew the potion?”  
“Oh, it was fairly easy. I just had to control my emotions. That was the hardest part, really.”

Draco nodded. Then he looked at Aquila, who had still not resurfaced from his neck, and patted her shoulder. “Well,” he announced brightly. “How about we go home? I’m quite done with this ceiling, and this bed. And the view.”  
“No way, papa. You’re staying here for observation,” Scorpius sounded. His voice was soft, gentler than Draco could remember. “I don’t want you to exhaust yourself so soon after.”  
“But my heart is beating normally again,” Draco whined. When he caught Lucius’s eye, he winced. “I mean,” he started again after clearing his throat. “I know how to take care of myself, Scorp. I can handle it.”  
Phi shook his head. “You are unbelievable. If there is anyone who does not know how to take care of themselves, it’s you. Oh, by the way! Headmistress McGonagall gave me some books to read over in the summer. Did you know that you can Transfigure _anything_ , if only you know the right spell?”  
Draco laughed. “I had a suspicion, yes. How is Headmistress McGonagall? And Neville? And the Weasleys? Oh, how is Mother? James, how is Suzanne doing? And are Albus and Manila still together? What’s going on with Matias, love?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Aquila hummed, finally lifting her head. “But, you know, everything is much the same. McGonagall is all right, Neville is deadly worried, but fine. The Weasleys are going about their life. Grandmère is … surprisingly okay with everything, but I’m sure Grandfather has informed her of the newest news of your healing. Albus and Manila are still together yes, and Matias told me to owl him as soon as I knew what was going on.”

Draco saw James plucking at his shirt, and Phi, who had crossed the room, was leaning heavily against him. Potter kept silent, watching his oldest son a bit worriedly.

“Ehm, Suzanne and I broke up, actually,” James shrugged. “It didn’t work out for us.”  
“Oh. I’m sorry for you.”  
“Nah, it was my decision. For now, I’m just glad that you are all right.”  
Draco smiled. He caught a small movement in the corner of his eye, the almost unnoticeable way Scorpius reached out to Cassie, who had still not spoken a word or moved a muscle. Swallowing heavily, Draco untangled himself from James, Potter and Aquila, only to step out of bed and rush to Cassie.

The moment he held her in his arms, she broke down. Not even after the trials had it been this bad, even though then, she had passed out from sleep. She crumbled to the floor, crying and tugging at his arms, begging him to never leave her again. Lucius herded the others out of the room, passing them in the doorway, and closing the door behind him.

“Papa, papa, papa,” she chanted softly. When Draco joined her on the ground, she curled up under his arm and press her ear against his chest, as if trying to prove to herself that his heartbeat was really stable again.

“Oh love, don’t cry. Don’t cry, I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. Everything is going to be all right, I promise you,” Draco chanted right back at her. It took a while for them both to calm down, after which Draco hauled her onto his hip, for which she was much too old and he much too weak at this point, and opened the door again to let the others back in. They were now joined by his mother, Albus and Lily, and Pansy and Blaise, all of them storming towards him to give him a hug or a kiss or both.

“Tomorrow, you will tell us everything, young man,” his mother chastised softly. “No more secrets. We will fix this. Together.”  
Potter nodded. “How could you have thought that you could do this on your own?”  
“You are the biggest idiot I have ever met,” Blaise agreed.  
“Greg thinks so too. Oh, and me too, of course,” Pansy grinned.  
Lily scoffed. “If you weren’t my papa, I would have let you suffer for a while longer, but I guess I’ll forgive you for being so stupid.”  
“Yeah, but only because I’m so glad you’re alive,” Albus added.

Draco listened to their almost practiced conversation with a growing smile. “Sure, sure. I love you too. Now, can someone update me in detail on life at Hogwarts? And, you know, the entire Wizarding World?”

As the Potter and Malfoy children started chatting, telling him all kinds of excited stories, Cassie slowly relaxed and dared to look up again. Her smile brightened with every passing minute and her face gained some colour again.

“Keira has gotten detention with Flitwick, because she was too cheeky and rude. She lost the Gryffindors fifty points in total,” Albus grinned, nudging James, who grimaced.  
“Yeah, she insulted McGonagall as well, and she was caught trying to sneak into the Ravenclaw common room. Then, Myrtle complained about Keira disturbing her at her nightly wailing, and that made McGonagall think that she was out and about at night, which, you know, is forbidden,” James sighed. “But it shut her up, all right, the detention. She now barely says anything. No one really likes her, except for Arthur and the like. She has gotten pretty close with Theresa, though.”

Cassie’s head shot up in worry, searching Draco’s gaze with fear in her eyes. Draco smiled calmingly – at least, he hoped he did. And judging by the way Cassie rested her chin on his shoulder again, he would think he succeeded.

“Theresa has been cosying up with several students, really. Quite many Slytherins, some Gryffindors, Ravenclaws. A few Hufflepuffs as well, but not as many. There’s a small group of people now actively hating you. But that’s all right, they can’t do anything. How much can students do, really?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, exactly. How much can students do?” he mumbled, shooting a glance at his mother.   
Narcissa then rolled her eyes. “All right, everybody under seventeen, out of this room, now.”  
“Why?” Phi frowned.  
“The adults have to talk some sense into your papa,” Lucius smiled, gently herding Phi out of the room. Cassie followed quickly, Albus pulled Scorpius with him and James tugged on Aquila’s hair to get her out of the room as well. Lily stayed a bit longer, looking between Potter and Draco, but leaving as well when Draco gave her a soft pat on her shoulder.

When they were with the six of them, Narcissa sat down and Lucius stared Draco down with something unforgivable in his eyes.

“Spill, Draco,” Lucius demanded.   
Potter looked up. “What is there to spill?”  
“See, Draco darling here did not tell you everything he knows about whoever did this.”  
“Malfoy?”  
Draco sighed. “Potter, please calm down. It’s not important.”  
“Your parents seem to think so.”  
“Since when are you siding with my parents? What would the Wizarding World think?”

Potter reached out and gave Draco a slap on his chest. “No times for jokes.”  
A snort sounded from the side of the window, surprisingly coming from Lucius. “I thought it was funny.” At Narcissa’s glare, he added, tutting, “But no, it may not be the time for jokes. Draco, behave.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I hate you both. From now on, only Mother, Pans and Blaise are allowed to talk to me. You, people, male specimens I am related to in one way or another, out. Out out out. Potter, get out. I hate you now.”  
“Sure you do. Not as much as I hate you. What is this talk of not having said everything?”  
“Can we let it go?”  
“You almost died, Draco. We can _not_ let it go.”  
“I have only just revived, we should really not overly burden my heart. No heavy conversation, only fun. Jokes. Happiness. Yay, I didn’t die!” Draco tried.  
Narcissa closed her eyes. “Draco. Can you really not see the urgency of telling the truth?”  
“You already know I’m bisexual, Mother. I’ve been honest about that.”

Suddenly, the door flew open to let Lily in, who stalked over to Draco and gave him a harsh shove. “Papa, I’ve been listening at the door, even though Scorpius told me not to, but then Aquila asked what I heard, and we mutually decided that we are all very angry at you. It’s bad enough that you don’t tell _us_ anything, but Dad loves you and you love him, so you should tell him everything. You are practically a married couple.”

Sharing a surprised look with Potter, Draco let his head lean back against the pillows and groaned. “Fine. Lily, you are wise and responsible and good, just like the others. Now go tell them so I can tell these adult-ish people what they want to hear.”

Lily grinned, pecked Draco on the cheek and left again, leaving Draco to fiddle with the bedsheets. “All right. Okay,” he started, only to be interrupted by Blaise.  
“Leave it to you to be convinced by an eleven-year-old. You are such an idiot, Draco. I can’t believe you have survived for so long.”  
“Shut up and let the man speak,” Pansy grumbled, gesturing that Draco should continue.

“Fine. Father knows most of it already, and so does Mother, but the rest of you should know.” Draco stared at the ceiling and shook his head. “It’s a long story, featuring very bad guys and even worse gals. Now, who’s up for a story?”

“ _Draco_ ,” Narcissa warned.

“Ugh. Five years ago, a ‘justice’ movement came up, that wanted to help victims of the war, and I’m on top of their list, have been for about two years now, so that’s what happened. Done.”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, stop messing about and tell me the truth right this second,” Potter growled. A silence fell over the room as everyone stared at Draco to see how he would respond on Potter’s addressing.  
“I’m sorry, Potter. I just don’t want to worry you so much. Everything is under control.”  
“Is it?”  
“Yes, it is. Love, I have it under control.”

Blaise cleared his throat. “Enough with the love declarations. Draco, tell.”  
“Two years ago, they started following me. One person in particular. One woman in all-black clothing, never saw her face. Ehm, it’s probably the reason Phi became an Animagus. Perhaps even why he has had so much trouble with controlling his magic. Terence Goldstein, you know, that Ravenclaw, he’s the son of Anthony Goldstein, who is part of this movement to get rid of all Death Eaters. Terence’s hate of all things Slytherin is because of Anthony. Priscus, Keira and Arthur are probably part of it too, just like Theresa. Most likely, there is someone of the movement working at _The Daily Prophet_. All in all, it’s a broad movement with a lot of people involved.”

Potter groaned. “Malfoy, you utter shithead. What is wrong with you?”  
“He has insecurity attacks, you must know that by now,” Pansy remarked.  
“Yeah, caused by childhood trauma and possibly some father issues,” Blaise continued, after which an awkward silence fell, and Draco closed his eyes with a sigh.  
“Blaise. Please stop talking.”

A moment later, the conversation continued, with Narcissa delicately steering it back to what matters. “What else have you been hiding for us?”  
“Nothing, Mother.”  
“Tell that to your children. Tell _us_ the truth.”  
“All right. And Astoria –“  
“What? Astoria is part of this?” Potter growled. Pansy patted his shoulder twice to keep him calm.  
“No, Potter. Astoria was roped into it.”  
“That’s what she says. How do you know it’s real?”  
“ _Because_!”  
“Malfoy, she isn’t to be trusted.”  
Draco grabbed Potter’s upper arm and squeezed. “Astoria was roped into this, just like Cassie was. All right?”

Another silence. Lucius shared a look with Narcissa, taking in the shocked faces of both Pansy and Blaise, and Potter.

“Cassie?”  
“Of course, Cassie. Who else? Who _bloody_ else would be susceptible enough to be roped into following a movement that is trying to kill me?”  
“What has she done?” Blaise interrupted.  
“Everything I have done, only in a slightly lesser degree. It comes down to her having joined some raids on Death Eater houses, and taking care of their children while they were being tortured.”  
“Foolish, _foolish_ girl,” Narcissa muttered.  
Potter swallowed. “And now?”  
“Now, this movement has successfully assaulted me, albeit the outcome wasn’t as they would have expected. And when they see that I am not ill – anymore – they will think of something else to hurt me with.”  
“In short, we need to find them,” Pansy announced to the room. “No matter what Draco says, we have to find out who they are. Who the leader is. Lucius, any ideas?”  
“As far as we know, the Goldstein family, along with Zarnel, Keira Littlemen and Arthur Serenos are part of this group. Neither of those families will have had the social standing nor organisational skills to start a widespread movement like this. My first hunch was that it must be a Gryffindor who started it, since there are relatively many Gryffindor members, and because the manner of acting is highly Gryffindoresque. Candidates are then Lola Princeton and her husband, Markus Angel or the Hurisbane family. On the other hand, I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that this is a Slytherin initiative. Slytherins that are angry at other Slytherins for following the Dark Lord. People who want to show that not all Slytherins are evil, going so far as to actively fight Death Eater families. The way that it has been kept a secret for five years, would suggest that it is indeed something Slytherin. I wouldn’t know which families I should think of then, however, since the Slytherin families that were against Death Eaters have been rather… thinned out.”

Narcissa hummed. “This Theresa Zarnel girl. Is she daughter of Hans and Christina Zarnel?”  
“Yes, but as I said, they don’t have the social standing for it.”  
“No, I know. However, Christina Zarnel has worked with Sifa Euripideia, Head of Department of Mysteries. This Sifa, also a Slytherin, was known for killing Death Eaters during the war, in a way that no one ever suspected it was murder. Suicide at best. She has the contacts, and the social standing, and obviously the organisational skills. She could be behind this. I know that she has always liked to wear black.”

They stared at Narcissa. “How do you know all this?”  
“Oh, the women of S.P.E.W. like to gossip. Especially with me around, they talk extraordinarily much about people that fought against Death Eaters. It results in some very interesting information.”  
“So… Sifa Euripideia? I’ve worked with her before, she was… she is clever. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. It’s scary,” Potter said. “I could easily believe she started this movement. She is this kind of extremely righteous person, it’s quite gross.”

Draco snorted. “Look who’s talking, the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Defeater of the Dark.”  
Rolling his eyes, Potter focussed again on Lucius and Narcissa. “But because she is this important person, is it possible to bring her down? She is Head of Mysteries, for Merlin’s sake. I’m not sure there is anything we can do to stop her.”  
“Dear Mr. Potter, you forget who you are talking with. Ms. Euripideia may be influential in official terms, but Lucius has many favours to call in. We can go a long way, if we all try,” Narcissa soothed.  
“Besides, Blaise and I are already facing Azkaban for life, so a little bit of illegal activity won’t harm us,” Pansy quipped. At Potter’s surprised look, she sighed and said, “We are able to live and work normally, but there is constant surveillance over us. We can’t make a move without the Auror Department knowing.”  
Potter smiled sheepishly. “Right. I forgot that for a second. Sorry.”  
“No need for apologies, you aren’t the one that started this surveillance. In fact, during your time as Head of Aurors, it was easier for us, since we weren’t as heavily watched. I rather liked you as Head Auror.”  
“And you lifted the surveillance on the Malfoy family, so you really made it up to us,” Blaise added.   
Draco’s head shot up. “What?”  
“Didn’t you know? He –“  
“Blaise,” Potter interrupted. He turned to Draco. “There was a constant surveillance on your children, which I found unfair. I lifted it, together with the surveillance on all Death Eater children. The children haven’t done anything wrong, you know? I just thought they shouldn’t be subjected to the same surveillance as their parents.”

Draco smiled. “You are something else, Potter. Righteous bastard, but a good one. Thank you.”  
“Well, it was also because Albus became friends with Scorpius, and I had every bit of surveillance I needed, but that’s beside the point,” Potter grinned. “Sifa Euripideia, though? What can we do?”  
“We can wait until Draco’s back and the school year is done. I think it’s for the best if we do this during the summer,” Lucius decided.  
“Right you are. Let’s get the children back, yeah? They must be worried by now,” Narcissa said. “Or if Draco has anything else to tell us?”  
“No, I’m all out of secrets to tell. Although, I would like to speak to Potter in private, if that’s all right?"

With a bit of mumbling and muttering, everyone left the room, except for Potter.

“What’s up, Malfoy?” he smiled.  
Draco extended his hand, letting Potter take it, and pulling him nearer to the bed. “I want to apologise. For not telling you everything. It was stupid of me.”  
“Yes, it was. But, you know, I understand. I would have done the same.”  
“Yeah, you probably would have. Did you get my letter?”  
Potter squeezed his hand. “Would you really have given me custody of your children?”

Chuckling, Draco outstretched his other hand and summoned a piece of paper from the night stand.  
“You aren’t supposed to be doing magic, yet, Malfoy.”  
“I don’t care. Read this.”  
Potter took the parchment, his eyebrows rising as he read it. “This is your last will and testament?”  
“It is.”  
“Would I have gotten full custody?”  
“Yes. The version my barrister has says that you get joint custody with my parents, but if I had died under these circumstances, I thought it might not have been wise to involve my parents in this. Then my death would be an attack on the Malfoy family, and my children wouldn’t be safe with them. But you see the last paragraph?”  
“’Mr. Potter is allowed to share custody with one or all members of the Weasley family, as he sees fit, to ease the burden and responsibility he is saddled with.’ You would really have done this?”  
Draco smiled. “My signature is on that paper, isn’t it? Potter, I want you to know that I love you a whole lot, and I have no idea what I would have done without you. So. Would you please forgive me for not telling you?”

As Potter bent forward to peck Draco on the nose, the door flew open to let in a flurry of children, all of them chattering about this or that, and quite ruining the moment.

“Potter,” Draco whispered with a horrified voice and wide eyes. “We have become the Weasleys.”  
“I’m sure that is not supposed to be an insult, but it does sound like one,” the characteristic voice of George Weasley sounded. Behind him, Molly, Arthur, Bill and Percy followed, all of which apologised for the absence of Ginny, who was in the middle of a match.

“Oh, can we listen to the Wireless? The match is on, please, Dad, please?” Lily begged, almost inaudible because of the noise in the room. Without waiting for an answer, Albus grabbed the Wireless and turned up the volume to drown out all conversation.

Potter laughed. “Oh yes. We have turned into the Weasleys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I almost forgot! Next three weeks, there won't be an update, because I will be on holiday. Sorry! Just remember that we are - in the story timeline - still on June 10th. Next chapter will be June 17th. Remember that!
> 
> Okay bye


	56. Eye of the Tiger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! I have returned! Have you missed me? I guess you missed me. I'm so missable. No, not miserable. Missable. Let's break it down into syllables.
> 
> Miss-Ab-Le
> 
> Missable.
> 
> Very good!
> 
> Now you try! Say 'missable'.
> 
> (...)
> 
> That sounds about right! We learnt a new word!

After a week of frustratingly having to stay in the hospital without being allowed to do much more than drink tea and eat muffins, Draco finally got the message that he could pack his possessions. There wasn’t much, just a roll of parchment, a few quills and the Muggle hoodie his father had brought him. It was warm out, sun brightly shining, no clouds visible, but Draco stared at the hoodie and decided to pull it over his head anyways.

Better to feel comfortable when he entered Hogwarts again.

Just outside his room was Pansy waiting for him to appear and bring him back to the school. “You ready?” she asked with a smile.  
Draco nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a few weeks now. I can’t wait to walk into the Great Hall and make those students quiver in their shoes, because the Potions NEWTS won’t be cancelled.”  
“You’re a sadist.”

Grinning, Draco walked through the door Pansy was holding open, pausing again when he felt the sun on his face.

“Merlin, I missed this,” he sighed.  
“Come on, I’ll Apparate you to Hogsmeade. No time to dally! You’ll want to be back and settled in before dinner,” Pansy replied, holding her arm out for him to take.  
“You don’t indulge me in the slightest, do you?”  
Pansy laughed. “I have been indulging you for years now, why are you complaining?”  
“I just want to enjoy the sun for a moment!”  
“You’ve gotten petulant over the last weeks. Take my arm, you child.”  
Mumbling something or other, Draco took Pansy’s arm, but kissed her on the cheek before she Apparated them away.

They landed in Hogsmeade, close to the Weasley’s shop. It was deserted, as everyone seemed to be at home with their families. Draco couldn’t wait to be back at Hogwarts with his own family. He wondered how much had changed. And how stressed his students would be: sure, James had taken over the classes and had been teaching them everything he knew, but no doubt some of the students had thought that the NEWTs would be cancelled.

Far too soon, the gates of Hogwarts became visible behind some bushes. They were open, and there was a bunch of children waiting.

A bunch of children that yelled and sprinted up to him the moment they saw him.

Draco laughed as Lily reached him first and jumped into his arms. “Hello to you too, love. How’ve you been?”  
“What do you think? Ugh, you are so stupid,” Lily grumbled.  
“And you have apparently hit puberty. Come on, on your own two feet.” Draco put her down just as Phi curled underneath his arm and made his own place right there, close to him.

Albus and Scorpius looked at each other, after which they nodded and Scorpius cleared his throat. “Papa, we have a proposal.”

For a minute there, Draco’s heart leaped as he thought of the proposal _he_ was thinking of, but he maintained his poker face and hummed in inquiry.

“We prepared a little routine to officially welcome you back. We were wondering if you would like to join in?”  
“A routine? What would that be like?” Draco laughed.  
Aquila smirked. “Well,” she started, after which his children pulled him to a less visible place to practice. Pansy just grinned and picked up Draco’s few possessions to bring them up to his apartment.

Pansy met Potter at the doors to the Great Hall, where he was waiting for Draco to appear.  
“He’s not coming,” Pansy told him. “The children have roped him into some kind of routine. You’ll see him a bit later.”  
“Oh,” Potter replied. “Then I’d better go in alone. Do you want to join?”  
“Would McGonagall be all right with it?”

After Potter assured her that it would be fine, they entered the Great Hall, being the last ones to take their place. Just as the food appeared on the tables and everyone’s attention was on their meal, the doors flew open and a burst of bright green and red firework sparkled in the door opening, restricting the view of who was behind it.

When the fireworks decreased, Hugo and Molly could be seen, proudly looking at the Hogwarts banner behind the High Table. A melody drifted through the Great Hall, slowly becoming louder, until it was at last recognisable as ‘Eye of the Tiger’. Four times was the characteristic melody repeated before Hugo and Molly took their first steps. Two voices began singing the lyrics of the song while Hugo and Molly split apart and went to the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables respectively.

Scorpius and Cassiopeia were now at the front of the line with the second verse, belting out the lyrics, taking confident, measured out steps, before they too split apart and went to Slytherin and Gryffindor.

The refrain had Albus and Louis in front, both singing but clearly not the main vocal that was heard. They too split to Slytherin and Gryffindor when their verse ended, making way for the third verse.

At this point, Draco could finally be seen at the back of the line, but Ophiuchus and Roxane were in front. Phi had morphed his hair the same ginger red as the other Weasleys, making up for a fitting pattern of redheads, blacks and blondes. After they went to Slytherin and Gryffindor as well, and after Phi suddenly presented a guitar, Albus some drums, and Roxane a keyboard, the refrain was led by Rose and Lily.

Lily went all out, smiling and dancing, making Rose join in, albeit a little more reserved. When they split apart, Rose moved to the Ravenclaw table and Lily to Gryffindor. Lily was still dancing and singing along when she sat down, right between Keira and Arthur, making the latter grumble and the former snort. She threw her arms around their shoulders and tried to make them join. When they refused, Lily smirked, knowing a victory when she saw one, and left them alone to sit with her friends.

The last verse had Aquila and James in the front, their black hair standing out against the still fizzling fireworks behind them. Aquila’s clear voice was definitely the voice that had been the main back-up vocal, but the male lead hadn’t been James. At the end of the verse, James twirled Aquila before she went to Ravenclaw and he to Gryffindor, ruffling Keira’s hair and patting Arthur’s shoulder to be annoying.

The final refrain was sung by all of them, a bulk of voices sounding up in the Great Hall. Lucy and Dominique were having fun together, and greeted the students they were standing next to. The procession had almost reached the High Table now, as they had walked during the song, and when Lucy went to the Ravenclaw table, and Dominique to the Gryffindors, it finally became obvious who had been singing the main vocals.

Draco turned around when he got to the front of the Great Hall, belting out the last line of the refrain and hitting the high note perfectly. He did some old-fashioned cliché rock move, shook his hair around, as the Great Hall burst out in applause. The repeats of ‘ _eye of the tiger’_ were carried by Aquila and Scorpius, as Draco bowed a couple of times – the proper, pureblood kind of bow, obviously – before he quickly rounded the High Table and sat down on his designated spot beside Potter, who was laughing uncontrollably.

“I hope Minerva doesn’t mind,” Draco whispered, almost unheard over the roars of the students.  
“I don’t think she does,” Potter answered, nodding towards Minerva, who was watching the students amusedly and did nothing to hide the small smile around her lips.

When the noise had come down, Minerva walked up to the lecture. “I wished to welcome Professor Malfoy back to Hogwarts after his adventures in St. Mungo’s, but I believe his welcome has been taken care of. Still, Professor Malfoy, I am glad to see you back, and healthy. However, the rumours that have gone ‘round about the reason for his time in the hospital, are something I would like to address. Professor Malfoy has not fallen ill just like that, but was attacked for malevolent reasons. Therefore, I’ll take this moment to say that whatever someone does or has done, nothing will ever justify hurting, bullying or degrading others. That being said, I also wish to highlight again that any disrespect to professors will not be tolerated, and that it will be adequately punished. Now, I will no longer hold you from your meal.”

When she sat down, she squeezed Draco’s shoulder and smiled at Potter. Potter reached out to hold Draco’s hand under the table, grinning like an idiot at having him back at Hogwarts. Spread out over the four tables, their children and the Weasleys were still talking about the song they had just performed. Other Slytherins were laughing along, Ravenclaws were mentioning that they never knew Aquila – or Draco – could sing like that, Hufflepuffs re-enacted the rock move Draco had pulled, and Gryffindors stared at the musical instruments they had used.

“So how did that come about?” Neville piped up, suddenly very close.  
Draco started. “What?”  
“That song thingy you just did. What else?” Pansy grumbled.  
“Oh, that. The children came up with it, and I knew the song. It seems they had been practicing for a week, hoping that I would join them when I got back.”  
“They have. They skipped classes and slacked in doing their work. The other professors thought they were visiting you or anything. Except for Flitwick. They asked for his help in reaching the right notes.”  
Draco looked to his right, where Flitwick was talking to the Runes professor. “Sneaky bastards, they are. Merlin, I love them.”  
“Don’t worry, we love you too,” James’s voice sounded behind them. “Hi. I was just checking up on you. Wanted to talk to you for a moment. If that’s okay.”

Smiling, Draco nodded and stood up to follow James out of the Great Hall. “I do hope it doesn’t last very long, I’m looking forward to a nice, well-cooked Hogwarts meal.”  
James laughed. “I’ll let you get back to that very soon. I just, ehm, wanted to say that I really am very glad you’re back. I mean, obviously, because you’re my papa now, but I really feel that way. And I can’t describe how relieved I was when the counterpotion worked, and when you just sang with us. ‘M just so happy, I can’t really put it in words. Sorry.”

As James was sheepishly looking at the ground, Draco put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him in a short embrace.

“I know, Jamie.”  
“Not, but _really_ –“  
“I know.”  
“But –“  
“Listen. I know you do, infallibly. Because of the counterpotion. The curse hit me in the heart, right? That can’t just be cured by a simple counterpotion. My heart was weakened, and it had to get strong again. The counterpotion had to be brewed by someone with the same values, the same feelings, the same way of thinking as I have. Someone with a strong heart, who not only knows what to do, but also has the intrinsic motivation to help me. To save me. Someone who _loves_ me like a father, a best friend or a partner.”  
“A partner in crime?”  
“For example,” Draco grinned. “And you, Jamie, if you realise or not, you are very much like me. You value family more than anything. You feel guilty, as I feel guilty, and you try to erase that guilt by doing good and doing better, as I try. You’re just a bit more reckless than I am. My point is, I know you really am very happy to have me back, because the potion wouldn’t have worked otherwise. It’s how I knew my father loved me, even though his actions not always showed it.”

Laughing now, James leaned against Draco’s side. “All right then. Then my next point of conversation.”  
“Oh dear, did you make a list?”  
“Of sorts. How are you going to catch whoever did this to you?”  
Draco sighed. “We know in which direction to look. We know what to look for. We know their background. We only need the evidence.”  
“And then what?”  
“Then we make them stop.”  
“Will you bring them to the Aurors?”  
“No, not if I have any say in it.”  
James frowned. “Why not? They almost killed you, papa. They would have, if we didn’t manage to make the counterpotion. They bullied Cassie, and the entire Slytherin House, if we see it in a broad perspective. They are bad guys!”  
“And they have infected the Auror Department. If we turn them in, the evidence won’t be strong enough, or some nonsense like that.”  
“How about the Wizengamot, then?”  
“Not much better. Jamie, believe me when I say that this movement, this _whatever_ is not something we can eradicate. We will make them stop assaulting me, but we can’t stop them entirely. There is too much hate towards Death Eaters still. The war is too fresh.”  
“It’s been twenty years. Isn’t that enough?” James grumbled.  
“Not until my and your generation is gone. I’m sorry, love. There is nothing we can do.”

James untangled himself from Draco’s arm and took some distance. As they walked back to the Great Hall, Draco heard James mumble something to himself.  
“What?”  
“I said. The only thing you should be sorry for, is your lack of trust.”

It made Draco stand still right away, feeling a churning in his gut as if he had just been hit.

“What?”

When James turned around, the look in his eyes was far too recognisable to be comfortable. Draco remembered how often Potter used to look at him that way when Draco had managed to rile him up – and how Potter still looked at him when Draco had kept another secret from him.

“I know you have some kind of trouble with people and trust and whatnot, but my dad always told me that if we don’t have faith, we won’t achieve anything. Ever. And I understand that you stay aloof and maybe keep people at an arm’s length, but you don’t realise what kind of enormous force we have combined! Do you not remember the way we turned the public opinion during your trials? And how Scorpius – on his own! – convinced the _entire_ Wizengamot that you were innocent? Don’t you remember that my dad is the _Saviour of the Wizarding World_? That he, and Ron, and Hermione, and Neville, and Seamus and Dean and the rest of ‘em, _killed_ Voldemort? Papa, if we make a plan, all of us, we can do anything we want!”  
“But –“  
“No, you listen to me now. I know we’re still at Hogwarts, but so was Dumbledore’s Army. With a bit of combined effort and using everyone’s strengths, they defended the school without much trouble. And with this, what we’re dealing with, there isn’t even a power hungry idiot leading it. No one will die. We just need to change the public’s view. That’s all we need to do.”  
“That’s easier said than done, Jamie, there is so much hurt and pain and tension still.”

James flapped his hands wildly. “You are unbelievable. You were _hated_ when you first came here. _Hated_. I very strongly dislike you, and I was one of the mildly opinionated. And here I am now, making a counterpotion so you won’t die. You have helped so many people. All those students in there? They love you. They cheered for you when the song finished, and that wasn’t just because they thought it was a good show. They were happy to see you back. The Slytherins would protect you if their life depended on it. The Gryffindors don’t want anything bad to happen to you. The Ravenclaws are against every bit of prejudice and hate against ex-Death Eaters and their families – all because they got to know _you_ and saw how you really are.”

They stared at one another, after which James continued in a quieter tone. “My aunts and uncles, and grandparents, and my cousins most of all, would fight for you, always. Teddy keeps asking when you get back to another family event, because he feels you are the closest he will ever get to his real parents. We all love you so much, and you just… You just don’t have faith in us.”

“I do, James, I really do, I just –“  
“You just don’t think that there is a possibility people could actually like you. But here’s the gist, papa. People already like you. There isn’t as much hate out there as you seem to think. Those that do still hate you, are just loud and public. But _The Daily Prophet_ wouldn’t have allowed Jackie’s article to run, if they thought they would lose subscribers.”  
“Jackie’s article?”  
“Yeah. When you were in the hospital, she sent an article to the _Prophet_. It was anonymous, but I helped her write it. Have you read it?”  
“My mother read it aloud for me. Was that Jackie’s?”  
James hummed. “If you have been able to change _her_ mind, what’s to stop us from changing the world?”

Draco swallowed. “I don’t –“  
“If you say that you don’t think it’s possible one more time, I will attack you myself, and it won’t be pretty. I recently learned a nice curse to use on Death Eaters. Understood?”  
Closing his eyes on a sigh, Draco nodded. “I don’t want this to end badly, but… I guess I’m in.”  
“Good, because we called everyone to come after dinner so we could start planning,” James grinned, pulling Draco back into the Great Hall to eat their dinner.

After dinner, Draco went up to his rooms in the dungeons, where his children were already assembled. Pansy was there too. Neville and Potter would arrive with the Weasleys, Blaise, Greg and the other members of their group of friends.

“How did you arrange all this on such a short notice?”  
“Oh, we didn’t,” Albus said airily. “We were going to have this meeting, whether you were here or not. It’s better that you’re here, though. You seem to have kept a lot of information behind, and we need to know everything we can. Scorp, did we invite your grandparents?”  
“Yes, we did, but Grandmère had S.P.E.W. meeting and Grandfather didn’t want to visit Hogwarts without it being absolutely necessary,” Cassie answered for her brother. “But Grandfather agreed to a Firecall, so if papa could do his little magic wiggle to the fireplace…?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Demanding, are we?” he mumbled, lifting the age barrier from the fireplace, so that his children could arrange the call.  
“Yes, she’s a right pain in the bum,” Phi nodded, resulting in an indignant ‘ _hey_!’ and a slap on the wrist from Lily. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t agree with me, I heard you say the exact same thing yesterday,” Phi threatened.  
Lily narrowed her eyes. “That was to Cassie. Besides, we’re best friends. Best friends are allowed to insult one another.”  
“Also, that was a private conversation, Ophiuchus Sirius Malfoy-Potter. Have you been eavesdropping again?”  
Phi gasped. “I can’t help it if you are talking so loudly! I was practicing my – ehm.”

The three Potters looked at him frowningly.  
“Practicing your what?” Albus asked.  
“My… my…”  
“Phi! You’re not allowed to practice spells yet! Did you use my wand again?” Aquila said, effectively gaining attention. As Phi morphed himself into his Malfoy façade, he tilted his nose up and huffed.  
“I am not obligated to tell you about everything I do,” he claimed.

Draco laughed, winked quickly at his daughter and bent over to whisper in Phi’s ear, “If you want to keep your Animagus a secret, you may have to try a little harder.”  
Scorpius snorted, close enough to whisper as well. “That’s the tenth time he almost spilled the secret. He’s an idiot.”  
“Although I fully agree with anyone calling a Malfoy an idiot, I am, however, wondering why one Malfoy would say it about another,” Potter’s voice suddenly sounded from behind them.

Blinking up at Potter, and the entire entourage of Gryffindors, with the occasional Hufflepuff – Hannah Longbottom, for example – and a rare Ravenclaw – Luna, with her husband, who was greeted very enthusiastically by Aquila, with hugs and all – following him close behind, Draco and his sons managed to be the perfect picture of innocence.

“Pansy is picking up Greg from the rehab centre, they’ll be here in a moment,” Potter told Draco, kissing the stuck-out lower lip fleetingly, and making Scorpius roll his eyes and Phi utter a disgusted sound.  
“Cool. Do you have any idea what’s about to happen tonight?”  
Potter smirked. “You’ll see, sweet cheeks.”  
“Don’t call me that,” Draco mumbled, trying to greet every Weasley in the existence of the world while glaring at Potter.  
“I’m sorry, baby cakes. I’ll go get the drinks for everyone, yeah?”

He left before Draco could answer, leaving Molly to pinch his cheeks. “Well, you’re cheeks _are_ particularly sweet, when they are blushing ever so lightly,” she remarked.   
George, who followed her, couldn’t help but laugh. “If it is any consolation, I think you are very manly and rugged. Very much my type, if I would have been into the whole male specimen-thing.”  
“Shut up, Gred,” Draco snapped.

George gave him two exaggerated pecks on the cheek in apology, making Draco push him away, but was halted in his movements when a wolf-whistle sounded.

“Well, I never would have thought,” Greg smirked.  
“Neither would I. I would have bet my life on Potter being the jealous type, but here you are, being properly wooed by George the Weasley!” Blaise exclaimed.  
Pansy rolled her eyes. “Shut up, you morons, and get in. Ask Scorp if you want some food.” She kissed Draco on the cheek before following the others, who were now in a heated debate with Ron about Potter’s supposed jealousy.

Draco took a breath. “Why do I have so many loud friends,” he groaned to himself, wincing when Seamus chose that exact moment to give a loud roar of laughter on one of Dean’s jokes.

“Papa, we’re ready!” James called.  
“Yeah, are you coming out of your stupor yet, or are you going to stay there?” Dominique joked.

When Draco turned, he saw that his favourite spot was left open, with Potter on one side and the arm rest on the other side. There was a big mug of tea on the coffee table and a piece of chocolate next to it. White, of course.

He sat down, smiling at Potter until Scorpius cleared his throat in an obnoxious attempt to get the attention.

“Thank you, papa and Dad, for finally breaking eye contact. Thank you, everyone else, for giving up your evening to join us in making a plan. And lastly, thank you, to everyone who has been present at our meetings earlier in the year. As you can see, we managed to set those two up together, much to my regret, and they are now a disgustingly sweet couple. However, there are people who do not want them as a couple – which I understand, because, as I said, they are disgusting. But you know, as loving son, I am supposed to support them and I will not stand for people assaulting either or both of them.”

Scorpius’s upper lip curled somewhat in distaste and anger, but he quickly turned it into a smile as everyone present laughed and nodded in agreement.

“So. Ideally, we make all hate and prejudice disappear in this society, so that everyone can live together peacefully and no racism or discrimination will exist. I doubt, though, that we will manage this within just one generation, so we will have to lower our standards – something Hermione Granger knows all about, right Won-Won?”

Again, everyone laughed, except for Ron and Luna, who curiously looked at Hermione and whispered to her husband that she didn’t think Hermione had lowered her standards for Ron.

“In short, we want to make this movement crumble and lose followers, not only for papa’s sake, but for every ex-Death Eater who regrets his actions and is trying to make up for them. For starters, what media can we, realistically, reach that will help us in our endeavours? How can we reach the public, so that everyone and their grandma knows that the time for hate is far behind us?”

“First off, I’d like to say that you have some epic rhetorical skills,” Bill chuckled.  
Scorpius smiled, sharing a secretive look with Hermione, and then with Percy. “Thanks. That’s not important for this meeting, though, but yeah, thanks. Anyone else have something unrelated?”  
“Yes, Victoire has something to say,” Teddy offered, making Victoire gape unattractively.  
“Right. No, I don’t. Ted, I hate you. I’ve nothing.”  
“You do, come on, say it.”  
“As long as you’re not pregnant, or worse, engaged, we don’t need to know right now,” Arthur decided. Teddy and Victoire looked at each other, seeming as if they wanted to respond, but thought different of it.  
“Is one supposed to say it now if one is engaged? Why?” Potter asked, smirking when twenty-five heads turned to look at him wide-eyed.  
“Because this is a family meeting, and pregnancy and engagements are priority number one in family meetings,” Roxane said.  
Hermione nodded. “Is there… an engagement we don’t yet know about?” she inquired carefully.   
The tension was broken when Ginny huffed. “Aquila wouldn’t look as shocked as she does right now, if those two would be engaged. Now, attention on the matter at hand. How do we kick those hateful arses?”

Cassie grinned evilly at Draco, who immediately groaned. “No, Cassie, this is _not_ permission for you to roughen up your vocabulary. You will stay sweet and perfect and innocent and never say a bad word in your life, understood?”  
“Sure do, papa!” she called cheerfully. “Now, how about we teach those fuckers a little lesson to stop fucking with my fucking family?”

Molly gasped, Arthur giggled, and George and Seamus burst out laughing, while Dean and Ginny grinned, fondly shaking their head.

“Godric, I love that girl,” Lucy sighed, plopping down beside Cassie and fist-bumping her.

“We could write a book and publish it?” Albus suggested, finally getting to the point of the meeting. All the students, and Pansy and Blaise, started laughing. Draco coughed up the sip of tea he had just taken, snorting as well.

“That was once and never again!” he begged. “The public does not need to know how to _woo_ me!”  
“Hey, it wasn’t just a guide to how to woo you, Malfoy. It was a guide to how you work. People should know that.”  
“What are you talking about?” George asked.

Only then, everyone remembered the most important rule of the book, namely to keep it a secret, and laughed even harder.

“All right, okay, let’s just get down to business please,” Scorpius hiccoughed. He realised his mistake only when Draco and Cassie looked at each other, before belting out the first lines of ‘ _Be a Man_ ’ from Mulan.

It soon spiralled into a medley of Disney songs, and Scorpius gave up on trying to get everyone to think, in favour of singing the tenor voice.

Just before curfew, Pansy dared Draco to sing ‘ _I Will Survive_ ’, the proper way, as a goodbye song to the students that had to go back to their dorms. Draco’s reluctance and Potter’s, Pansy’s and Blaise’s glee, made the Weasleys keen to hear it too.

“Not in front of the children!” Draco hissed to Pansy, who flapped her hand.  
“They have seen and heard worse. You almost died. You can do them this little favour, can’t you?”  
“It’s not appropriate in this company.”  
“Neither is making people curious and not follow through,” said Lucius’s voice, the first thing he had uttered this evening, a smile evident in his tone.  
Phi, who had been sitting closest to the fire, nodded. “Grandfather is right. It isn’t polite, papa.”

Shaking his head, Draco looked at Potter for support, but he raised a challenging eyebrow. “Scared, baby cakes?”  
“I told you not to call me that!” Draco growled.  
“You only told me not to call you ‘sweet cheeks’, so I’m doing exactly as you wanted.”  
“That’s never a good idea, Dad, to do what Draco wants. He made me go out with Manila,” Albus cut in. “But papa, baby cakes, sweet cheeks, I beg of you.”

Potter grinned. “Come on, what are you so ashamed of? I, personally, find it a very refreshing side of you.”  
“You do remember how you reacted last time, don’t you?”  
At that, Potter blanched, but shrugged it off – even if with a strained smile. “I dare you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, but stood up anyway.

“Before I begin, I would like to apologise to everyone, but in particular Molly, Arthur, my father and the children. I have had no wish to do this in front of you, but you all were so adamant and you decided that you really wanted to see this, so this is your own fault. Father, you still have the option of shutting down the Firecall. I very kindly suggest you do this.”

Then he made some space to create a make-shift stage, and sat Potter down on a barstool he brought from the kitchenette.

The music started slowly, with Draco making some dramatic faces and movements, fainting like a Victorian age lady, before he started marching along on the rhythm. Pansy catcalled at him, Blaise shouted that he wasn’t doing it properly, after which Draco glared at them and slid over to Potter.

At the start of the refrain, he had Potter caged between his legs and arms around his waist, trailing one finger along his hemline and the other on his jaw. He bent backwards, tugging at his own hair before returning back to Potter and watching him with hooded eyes. He heard George whistling behind him, which made him smirk and bite his lip.

With the second verse, Draco pulled Potter up from his barstool and threw his arms around his neck, pressing close to have them swaying to the music together, now with Draco’s eyes cast downwards. He dropped Potter, twirled him around and started up a high-tempo ballroom dance, smirking all the while as Potter stepped on his toes, or tripped, or clung tightly at Draco’s shoulder to maintain balance.

At the last repeat of “I will survive,” Draco suddenly let go of Potter and slipped down in a split, only breaking his pose when the applause died down and Potter pulled him back up.

Draco groaned, rubbing his aching thighs. “I’m getting too old to do the split.”

“And I did not need to see this,” the robotic voice from the Firecall sounded, after which Lucius broke off the connection and loud laughter filled the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gentlemen and unicorns, I have an announcement to make. Ever since the start of this story, I have had a playlist of songs on Youtube that I used to get in the mood for writing this. And this is also a playlist of every song that has featured in this story. Therefore, I thought you might like to listen to this playlist as well...
> 
> SO HERE'S THE LINK YAY WHOOOO  
>  [APOMILAH playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTB_8L5j281EfKrgKvLogJyZvy8BhAnYD)
> 
> It's being updated whenever I find a new song that helps me set the mood, so be sure to check it whenever I've updated a new chapter. Also, it's really fun to listen to this playlist while reading the story.
> 
> PS.: TEA on the COFFEE TABLE. How ironic is that? I love languages. Sweet corn, I love languages.


	57. Surprise, surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's been four weeks without good reason. Sorry! Ugh man, this was really bad. I'll try to do better next time!
> 
> For now, enjoy the chapter. Please come scream at me when you've finished reading it, because I'm bouncing on my seat.
> 
> Also, it's not very well written this time, because I wrote it in small bits, spread out over four weeks and it's much better to write in one long flow, so... yeah, good luck xD

When the NEWTs started, a tension was tangible in the castle. Students stressing to get good results, professors stressing to have everything set up properly, and Phi running around to try and bring a smile on everyone’s face. However, that wasn’t the only tension. Students that had clustered around Arthur and Keira, or Terence and Priscus, or Theresa after Draco’s trials, could now be found together, abruptly stopping their conversation when a Weasley, Potter or Malfoy came by.

In retribution, the Team For Justice – as Albus had started to call them – split up in three groups, each with their own purpose. Draco, Potter, Lucius, Narcissa, Cassie, Scorpius, Bill and James worked together on finding out the names of every single member of this movement. Arthur and Molly, together with Ginny, George, Charlie, Albus, Luna and the Weasley children were supposed to publish positive stories about Death Eaters that had changed their ways. The others, Percy, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise and Greg, were set to pay attention to what they saw and heard in their respective environments, in the hopes that they would acquire information that could be useful for the other two groups.

Scorpius made a schedule of how often people were supposed to meet, and when certain tasks had to be finished. He was laughed at in the beginning, but the schedule was followed and it resulted in a neatly organised structure.

And because of all that, Draco found himself striding to the office of the Head of Mysteries. Lucius and Narcissa both had this woman, Sifa Euripideia, as their main suspect of leading the movement, and Potter had told them that she would be capable of doing it. The Detective Department of Team For Justice had therefore decided that Draco should visit her with an excuse, to observe her body language and maybe snoop in her office a little.

“Good afternoon,” Draco greeted the secretary with an easy smile. “I’m here for an appointment with Ms. Euripideia?”  
“Mr. Malfoy, is it? Very well, she is expecting you. It was about a prophesy, was it not?”  
“Yes, a family prophesy which I’d like to hear. Thank you.”

He smiled again before entering the door the secretary pointed him. The office was sterile, organised. No parchment was out of order, no quill was misplaced. Draco would be impressed if he didn’t feel dread entering his veins. If this was only her _office_ … They would never be able to catch her for a mistake. Assuming that Sifa Euripideia was the woman they were looking for, of course.

“Mr. Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you,” Ms. Euripideia said, standing to offer Draco her hand. Her manner of movement struck Draco as familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.  
“The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for receiving me.”  
“Not at all. What can I help you with?”  
“Right. There is a family prophecy in here. The first heir of the Malfoy estates is allowed to listen to it when they have found the purpose in their lives. I think I have that now. The prophecy should be available now, if the purpose I found is true. If not, the Divination Ball will stay blank.”  
Ms. Euripideia pursed her lips. “I can take a look for you. We will have to make a new appointment to have you view the prophecy. The Balls cannot leave or storage.”  
“Oh. You can’t find it today?”  
“No, there is a long precursory process to assure the prophecy won’t cause any… _harm_. I’m sure you understand.”  
Draco nodded, ignoring the twist in his stomach. “Naturally. When can the next appointment be? I’d like it as soon as possible.”  
“The minimum amount of time for this procedure is two weeks, but we are very busy at the moment. I will check my schedule and get back to you with proposed dates.”  
“That is unfortunate,” Draco frowned, suppressing his nerves and making up a quick lie. “I won’t be well available coming weeks. I suppose we can’t arrange a new appointment today?”  
Sighing, Ms. Euripideia stood up. “I will ask my secretary, if you’ll wait a moment.”

She waved her wand under the desk – Draco saw her arm move and he could guess that it was an extensive locking spell – before moving outside her office, speaking in low tones with her secretary. In the meantime, Draco tried a few spells that could loosen up the threads of a locking spell, and then cast a searching charm, focussed on the name ‘Draco’, ‘Lucius’, ‘Malfoy’, ‘Narcissa’ and a few other related words, to see whether he could find any indication of documents about them.

The result was overwhelming, to say the least. He wasn’t able to read any actual document, because the locking spell didn’t allow that, but there was a blue glow coming from every document that included one of those names. A dark, very present glow was coming from one of the drawers of the desk. A drawer that reeked of strong protective magic, spells that were nearly impossible to break unless the right password-threads were tugged at. One mistake would make all of them crumble to pieces.

Draco swallowed. When he heard Ms. Euripideia finish her conversation outside, he quit the spell and cast one that would take virtual pictures of the office.

“Your office is lovely,” Draco remarked kindly at Ms. Euripideia’s questioning gaze. “I am looking for ideas to reorganise my home office. I hope you don’t mind that I take inspiration from your work.”

It was the right thing to say. Of course it was. Draco knew exactly how proud Ms. Euripideia was of her interior design work. She looked around her office, nodding shortly.  
“No problem at all, sir. About the next appointment, I can fit you in in six weeks from now, and then I will have enough time to have a long conversation with you. If you are fine with a shorter appointment, we can meet in two weeks from now, in July. What do you say?”  
“July will work for me. Thank you, Ms. Euripideia.”

After deciding on the exact time and date, they left with another handshake, and Draco with photographs of the office. He had done it to cover up for the high level magical signature in the room, but it could actually come in handy. He would have to consult with his team.

Coming back at Hogwarts, Draco is immediately swarmed by the Department of Publications of the Team For Justice. Albus grinned up at him with a twinkle in his eye, and Draco was just about to ask what they were preening about, when Dominique told him.

“We just sent our first article to _The Daily Prophet_ , and they have accepted it. It will be published in tomorrow’s edition, on the gossip pages. We will be right next to another article from _Anonymously Observant_ , or however that idiot it called. You know, the one with the less-than-flattering articles about you. How about that?”

Draco smiled. “That’s perfect. How do you know where the article will be posted?”  
“Because we asked. Auntie Gins made some calls with her ‘good friend’, who is the secretary of the editor,” Roxane explained. “Quite handy, having a famous family member.”  
“Try having _two_ famous _parents_ ,” Albus complained. Then he smirked at Draco and added, “Or, you know, _infamous_.”

As the others laughed, Draco pulled Albus in a hug and messed up his carefully styled hair. “You wait until I get to grade your NEWT, you won’t be laughing then!”

“Do I hear my son being threatened?” Potter asked amusedly, languidly coming their way. “Hi, love,” he mumbled when he kissed Draco’s cheek. “Have I missed something?”  
“The first publication will be out tomorrow in the _Prophet_.”  
“Oh! That calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?”  
“Hmm, perhaps. I rather had something else in mind. Is it all right if I take you out for dinner this evening?”

Potter’s eyebrows rose to his hairline while the children cooed dramatically, and Albus gagged. “Shouldn’t we be at the High Table?”  
“Yes, we should, but I was thinking, maybe we just didn’t eat, and I dragged you out somewhere else?”  
“Have you got nefarious plans, then?”  
“I always do,” Draco grinned. “What do you say?”  
Pretending to think about it, but not hiding the grin on his face, Potter eventually agreed.

The gaggle of Weasleys preceded Potter and Draco on their way to the Great Hall, where students were already assembling for dinner.

“We have to tell Minerva that we’re gone,” Potter remarked.  
“Already taken care of, love. Stop worrying, your age is showing.”  
“As if you haven’t given me enough reason to worry. You do know that we’re not even close to finished arguing about you keeping secrets from me, right?”  
Draco groaned. “I had a feeling. Maybe tonight we can talk about it?”  
“Sure. Where exactly are you taking me?”

The question seemed to take Draco by surprise.

“I – I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. What do you feel like doing?”  
“The amazing Draco Malfoy forgot to plan something. What a newsworthy event.”  
“Shut it. It was a spur of the moment-thing, okay?”  
“Spur of the moment, but you already informed Minerva?”  
“Yes, Potter, now stop being annoying. Where would you like to go?”  
Potter snickered. “We could go to the beach. The weather’s lovely.”  
Pushing Potter softly, Draco nodded. “The beach it is. I can Apparate us to one of the Malfoy estates in Cornwall. The grounds there include some lovely cliffs and sand beaches. If you want.”

A slightly insecure, but mostly beaming look overtook Potter’s face.

“Are you inviting me to your house?”  
“Well, it’s not the Malfoy Lodge, obviously, but yes, it’s my house. What’s with the surprise?”  
“It’s just,” Potter started, shrugging. “You’ve always been a bit closed-off about your home. I wasn’t sure whether I would see the Lodge anytime soon, let alone any of the other estates. Except for the Manor, of course.”

Draco smiled, patting Potter’s hand. “I would love to share my home with you, Potter. You have no idea how far that extends. In fact, if you’re willing, you could come visit the Lodge over the summer. With the children. You could… I don’t know, stay with us for a while? The Lodge is big enough, and, frankly, don’t you think it’s a bit odd that we have already joined names, but you have not yet seen my home?”  
“Well, yes, _I_ think it’s odd, but I thought maybe it was just another Pureblood thing. Or a Malfoy thing. I don’t know.”  
“And you would have been okay with never seeing my home?”  
“Well, not _never_ , obviously. But whenever you would have been ready, yeah. Of course.”  
“Potter, I don’t say it enough, but you are truly something.”  
Potter grinned. “Something good?”  
“Something beyond. Now, do you want to cook ourselves or have the house elf do it?”  
“I’m not a good cook, so maybe have the elf do it? Although I’m not fond of that, either.”  
“You’re forgetting that I can cook as well.”  
“We can go for fish and chips. You don’t need to cook for me.”

Draco tilted his head to the side, regarding Potter with some curiosity. “You don’t think I can cook.”  
“No, I’m sure you can cook, I just –“  
“Potter. I’ve been taking care of four children on my own. I don’t let my house elf cook on regular days, only when we have visitors. Harky does enough. I am a good cook.”  
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”  
“It’s all right. I’ll cook for us tonight. And then we’ll go to the beach, as you wished. Although I have never understood why people think the beach is romantic.”  
Potter’s eyes opened wide in surprise and disbelief. “You don’t – all right. We’re going to the beach tonight, Malfoy.”

About one and a half hour later, they were walking up the driveway to a spacious, thatched house, surrounded by purple heather and low scrubs. The wind was whipping around their hair, salty sea air on their lips. Draco noticed that Potter couldn’t stop watching him, even though they were approaching the house.

“Potter, stop staring, it scares me,” Draco laughed, wrapping an arm around Potter’s waist.  
“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you with your hair in disarray. It’s a nice discovery.”  
“Shut up. I thought you wanted to see where I lived?”  
“Oh yes, very much. Show me around.”

Draco took the bag of groceries from Potter before sweeping his arm around. “The sea is just a couple hundred yards that way, along the treeline. The herb garden is on the other side of the house. I’ll show you when we go there to grab herbs for dinner.”

He opened the door for Potter, pointing him in the direction of the kitchen. They put down the groceries, said hello to Harky, who had jumped from the Lodge to the Cornwall estate to clean it quickly, and Draco immediately tugged on Potter’s arm to give him a tour.

“So, this is the parlour, there’s the reading room, and the dining room. Upstairs, here, follow me, there are a couple bedrooms here. The biggest one is the master bedroom, so that’s where I sleep. And… you, if you would sleep over and want to stay in the same room. Right. So. Then there’s Cassie, and Phi, and Scorp, and Aquila. And the bathroom. And we have a couple of guest bedrooms, which could be turned into rooms for your children. I was thinking, maybe this soft bluish tint for Lily’s room? And Albus’s could be greenish, right, and it would be the empty room next to Scorp’s. Or do you think they wouldn’t like it? Would that be too much for them, to be dorm mates at Hogwarts, and be brothers, and sleep next to each other? I mean –“

“Malfoy. They’ll love it. And I love that you are actually thinking about this stuff.”  
“And these are just my ideas for a _summer house_. Imagine what I have planned for the Lodge.”

Potter laughed loudly, pulling Draco back downstairs. “Right, so what exactly are we going to eat?”  
“You just wait and see. It’s nothing special, though. Can you set the table?”  
“Will do. There is something I need to talk to you about, tonight. Can you cook and talk at the same time?”  
Draco frowned. “It sounds worrying. What is it?”  
“Well, you know. I don’t understand why _you don’t find the beach romantic_?”  
“I just don’t. There’s sand everywhere. The wind absolutely _ruins_ my hair. It’s just not very personal, is it?”  
“But the water! Walking together, barefoot, just chatting and smiling, and having to walk closer because the wind obliterates all sound, and giggling because we both look ridiculous with wind-blown hair, and then, when we get back home, we are tired and just want to sleep, so we fall asleep on the couch. _That’s_ why the beach is so romantic.”  
“All right, you win. We’ll walk along the seashore and watch the sunset and dance on the clouds and our love will carry us,” Draco scoffed, moving about like he was used to cooking in this kitchen. Which, you know, he probably was. Potter had no idea how often he came here, but it seemed like it was often enough.

“How often do you come here?” he then asked, needing to keep talking to Draco.  
“Every now and then. Before, when I was still married, I came here once a month, the only month that I knew Astoria would be home. Just for two days, you know. Nowadays, I’m only here when I manage to get all of the children out with friends at the same time. It barely happens. Come on, dinner’s ready. Sit down.”

Potter quickly plopped down on one of the chairs at the dining table, waiting until Draco had brought down the plates of food. They ate silently, glancing at each other and smiling around their forks when they were caught looking.

“It’s good, Malfoy.”  
“Thanks. Convinced of my cooking skills now?”  
“Yes, very. Have I told you I loved you yet?”  
Draco grinned, looking down at his vegetables. Potter thought he saw a blush on his cheekbones, but he couldn’t be sure. Mostly because he couldn’t quite believe Draco would blush now, of all days.

“You haven’t. You don’t tell me enough. Do you even appreciate me?” Draco joked.  
Rolling his eyes, Potter picked up the dishes to bring it to the kitchen, but Draco stood up just as quickly and put the dishes back down. “We have to go to the beach now, otherwise we’ll miss the sunset. Harky will do the rest. It’s okay, he doesn’t mind. Will you please go to the beach with me now?”  
“Ugh. You know I don’t want house elves doing all the work.”  
“You don’t mind the elves at Hogwarts doing it.”  
“But –“  
“Please?”

Soon enough, they were on their way to the beach, with extra vests in their bag to beat the sharp coastal wind. The path lead between rough cliffs and a heather covered hill, resulting in a rocky sand beach. There were several people sitting or walking along the waterline, seemingly just as content as Draco felt already.

“So why did Jamie and Suzanne break up?” Draco suddenly asked, frowning. “I thought they were mad about each other.”  
“I thought so too, actually. Everyone did. Only Aquila didn’t seem very surprised. Did you know ‘Quila and James are really very close?”  
“I did. Back to the topic at hand, please?”  
Potter grinned. “I don’t know. He said he didn’t like her as much as he thought. And maybe he is a bit afraid still of the ‘curse’ on the names of James and Lily.”  
“There is no such curse.”  
“I know that, and you know that. He knows it too, but… it’s what he gave as a reason. He didn’t want to jinx it, or anything. Didn’t want to challenge history, or something.”  
“All of this sounds like invalid reasons. There must be more.”  
“It’s what he told me. I’m sorry, Malfoy.”  
“Hm. We’ll find out, I guess. I’m sorry for him. Jamie’s such a sweet lad, I don’t want to see him get hurt.”  
“He won’t. We will all be here to help him and support him whenever he needs it. We love him, and that’s all he needs.”  
Smiling slightly, Draco nodded. “I suppose. Do you want to continue walking?”  
“We can sit down. My feet are getting cold. The water’s really freezing.”  
“And that while the weather’s been so nice, yeah, sure, are we talking about the weather now?”

A wild grin appeared on Potter’s face. “Do you have any other plans, then?”  
“Well, we could sit on these lovely rocks right here. And then we’ll see what we can do.”  
“I’m sitting,” Potter said, sitting primly with his arms crossed and feet flat on the ground.  
“You’re an idiot, is what you are.”  
“Am I getting a kiss, though?”

The angelic smile on Potter’s face was enough to make Draco bend over and press a light kiss on his lips. “That’s all you’re getting for now.”  
“Why? What have I done wrong?”  
Draco huffed a laugh. “We’re in public, love. You know how I feel about being in public.”  
“You love the spotlight?”  
“The other thing.”  
“Yeah, all right, I know. Come sit next to me. We still need to talk about the entire keeping secrets thing.”  
“Right. You start.”  
“Shouldn’t you start with an apology?”  
“No, you start.”  
Potter pushed him softly. “You’re annoying. But okay. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I didn’t want to worry you.”  
“That’s not enough and you know it.”

With a sigh, Draco settled back into Potter’s waiting arms and stared at the horizon – however cliché he felt doing so.

“At first, I thought this wasn’t going be important, you know. I thought the movement wouldn’t last, wouldn’t get much follow-up. And it’s like a frog in boiling water, you know. It’s just kept getting worse and worse, but in such small degrees that I didn’t really notice until it was too late. Suddenly, my family was involved. Suddenly, my children were targeted. And I just didn’t know what to do with myself, or who I should ask for help. Surely, I was too late now. And then I got arrested, and I knew that yes, it was really too late now. I was lost. But then you idiots came to the rescue, and I was fine again. I love you so, so much, but I thought I had lost you, and then I didn’t. I just. I didn’t know what to do, Potter. Last two years, I didn’t have people I could burden with this knowledge, because my friends and my parents wouldn’t be able to handle it. Just last year, I met you guys, and I realised that I didn’t have to take this like a wet cloth. I could fight back. Finally. I really want to fight back, I just don’t… know how.”

Potter smiled. “Okay, I understand. I don’t approve, because I think you underestimate your friends and your family, They would have helped you, if you had asked. That doesn’t matter anymore now. Now you have us, all of us, and you know the Weasley fighting spirit. Next year, everything is going to be like it used to be. Everything will be done. We’ll catch the one responsible.”  
“I’m sure you’re right. Merlin, what would I do without you?”  
“Wallow in self-pity, probably. But that’s all right.”  
“Good. Can we move on to another subject? Or, well, slightly related subject?”  
Snorting, Potter nodded. “Sure, what’s up?”  
“I’m worried about Scorpius.”  
“Whoa, hold up. What’s this about?”  
“I’m worried about him. I get this feeling that something is going to happen, something that he won’t be able to handle. Something that will ruin him, maybe break him.”  
“Why do you think that?”  
“I don’t know, it’s a gut feeling. And last time I ignored a gut feeling, I was hit by a curse that almost killed me.”  
“Malfoy –“  
“I’m serious, even if I’m joking. Something is going to happen.”  
“What kind of thing?”  
Draco sighed. “I have no clue. Just – something.”  
“Will it affect just him, will he get hurt? What kind of something? And how do you know? Is it something you’ve been hiding from me again?”  
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s not factual knowledge. It’s… Right, listen. This movement, whoever they are, whatever they want, they have managed a few things up until now. They managed to break Phi, with his Animagus-thing. They broke Cassie. They hurt Scorpius. The only person they didn’t manage to get to yet, is Aquila. And I don’t know if you know, but Aquila is the glue in Scorp’s life. He feels like Aquila is untouchable, unbreakable. If something happens to her, I don’t know what Scorpius will do.”

Potter remained quiet for a while, after which he cleared his throat on a hum. “What you’re saying is that we should hurry up before they get to Aquila. Which I totally agree with, to be honest. But our plan is instable. We can’t move things along any more than we are already doing.”  
“I know. That’s not what I’m asking. I want everyone to pay close attention to the people Aquila hangs out with. I want everyone to protect her, without her noticing that we are watching her like a hawk. Is that too much to ask?”  
“Yes,” Potter chuckled. “You know how she is. She probably knows what we’re doing by the end of breakfast.”  
“She’s brilliant, isn’t she?”  
“You sound like a loved-up idiot and I don’t like it.”  
“Why not? I just really love my daughter. What’s so wrong about that?”  
“Nothing, nothing at all.”  
Suddenly, Draco burst out laughing. “You aren’t actually jealous, are you?”  
“ _No_! Of course not, that would be stupid.”  
“You are such a brainless Gryffindor.”  
“But you love me.”  
“Sure, when I feel like it.”

With a grin, Potter stretched his legs to push his feet around in the sand. Draco watched him make figure-eights, hair all over the place and teary eyes from the wind. He had wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm, but the occasional shiver still ran over his spine.

“I understand now,” Draco mumbled, not wanting to break the peaceful silence between them.  
Potter hummed in question, not looking up from his buried feet.

“I understand, but it’s not the water, nor the sunset, nor the wind or the view.”  
“It’s the people watching,” Potter nodded, realising what Draco was talking about. “That’s the best part of going to the beach.”  
“No, not quite. You see –“ Draco smiled, digging his fingers in one of his pockets and feeling around until they bumped against something small. “It’s not the people watching either. It’s the company.”  
“Well, how kind –“  
“Kindly shut your face. I was trying to do something here. Because there is one other secret I kept from you.”  
“Malfoy –“  
“What did I say about shutting your face? Let me talk, okay?”

After Potter’s nod, Draco stood up and took a breath. “We had a rocky start. Not only this year, but the first time we met. And all seven years at Hogwarts, I had this immense dislike for you. I still do, actually, but that’s just a Pavlovian response to your hair by now. Enfin, during sixth year, I hated you even worse, but mostly because I thought you were trying to save everyone but me and my friends, while we could have really used your help. Not that we would have accepted it, mind you, but that’s beside the point. During seventh year, I wanted nothing more than to see your ugly face, and to know that the war was almost over. Then you decided to almost die on me a couple of times, and I didn’t quite agree with that, but all right. The years after Hogwarts, I hated the amount of publicity you got, but I have to say that I hated it mostly because I knew you didn’t want it either. Then came Scorpius, shouting about his new best friend that had the best parents and was such a good flyer and who helped him in all his Defense homework, and I couldn’t really hate you anymore. And this year, dear Merlin, you just didn’t accept defeat, did you? No matter what I did, you just kept being nice to me and I just wanted you to walk away. But you didn’t, and now here we are. Discussing the romance of going to the beach.”

Draco heard Potter’s breathing hitch from time to time, eyes wide open in surprise and confusion. He smiled softly to reassure Potter.

“Though in the end, it doesn’t matter whether the beach is romantic or not. I don’t even care that much. Because I can be here with you. And I can hold your hand, or kiss your cheek if I wanted to. I don’t have to worry about what my parents will think – they approve, by the way, I got an official notice – or my children, or even what your family would say. The only thing that matters is right here, right now. You and me. And I’ve never had that kind of … pause in time. That kind of peace. I only have that with you. When we are marking papers together, or when you showed me Severus’s grave, or when we talk during dinner. It doesn’t matter how many people are around us, or how noisy it is. When I’m with you, nothing matters.”

“Malfoy –“

“It isn’t difficult, Potter, it’s just two words. Shut. Up. Now, where was I? Right. I suppose you didn’t find the little note I left you on my nightstand in the hospital. If you had, you would have mentioned it by now. Apart from the letter, I had written a hasty note for you, which said that you should ask Harky for the package that had arrived at the Lodge when I was in jail before my trials. The package was a collection of wooden planks. That might not mean much to you, but it does to me. You see, in the year 1798, my Malfoy ancestor, Gerhbrandus, bought a batch of wood for his ‘close friend’ Leehart. Even though the Malfoy archives don’t mention it, there is a letter from Gerhbrandus to Leehart, presenting the batch of wood to him with the following words:

_‘With this, I not only give you wood – a most practical and wonderful material, with which one can build a ship to cross the roughest seas, a shelter to protect from the fiercest storms, a fire to warm even the coldest hands, and, most importantly, a house to become a family – but with it, I send you my love. Love to remind you of me when we’re apart, love to keep you out of harm’s way, love to warm you from within, and love to become a family._

_Leehart, kind, brave, blessed Leehart, accept this wood from me. And accept not only the wood, but the hidden message it holds. Accept my hand, Leehart, even if none will allow it.’_

So, I had planned this elaborate gesture for you, but suddenly I was walking again, so I kind of forgot about it. I didn’t, actually. I just had to find a new moment and a design a new plan. However, along with the batch of wood, there was something else. Less symbolic, and easier to understand for the common folk.”

Draco drew his hand from his pocket, opening his palm immediately, because Potter had to know what he meant by now, he couldn’t be _that_ dense.

“I was hoping that you would maybe like to marry me. If you aren’t sick and tired of the entire marriage business already. In case you’re wondering, Molly and Arthur actually gave me their blessing, and my parents did too, as I said, so that’s settled. What do you say?”

Potter coughed. “I’m going to need you to say this loud and clear, Malfoy. Loud and clear.”

Snorting, Draco took Potter’s hand in his empty one, slowly sinking down on one knee.

“Mr. Harry James Potter. Will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me, please! i-am-and-proud on Tumblr (too lazy to put in the link).
> 
> Also, I have a game for you. Are you interested in playing a game with me?


	58. Chamber of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> It's been a while.
> 
> Sorry, I guess? Next chapter will also take a while again, but I will finish this story, if it's the last thing I do. So don't leave me :(

“Mr. Harry James Potter. Will you marry me?”

With a smile, throwing out his hands to hold Draco’s, Potter nodded. “Absolutely. You idiot.”

Draco grinned. “Good. Now, about next year…”  
“What about it?”  
“I don’t want my children – well, our children – to go back to Hogwarts while there’s still someone one the loose.”  
“Obviously. But next week, you’ll go back to Euripideia, right? You’ll get some answers, I’m sure.”  
“Perhaps, though it won’t be solved with one meeting only. It’s going to take time, Potter.”

Potter rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I know. We’ll manage.”  
“I worry about it. About what might happen to you and Jamie and Albus and Lills. What if you become victims as well?”  
“It won’t come that far –“  
“Stay with me. This summer, come stay in the Lodge. I’ve got the space for it. I  want you there with me. Please.”

Surprise flickered over Potter’s face, but it settled in a glimmer in his eyes when he hummed, agreeing. “I think I can convince the children of a summer-long sleepover. Though I hope you realise I won’t give up Grimmauld, even if we’re married.”  
“When,” Draco pouted. “ _When_ we’re married. Also, that house belongs to me. Of course I won’t make you sell it.”  
“Pish-posh,” Potter tsk’ed. After a beat of silence, he ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “We better get back to Hogwarts. It’s getting late and we have some hard work coming up, with the N.E.W.T.s.”  
“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. What are we going to tell those monsters though?”  
“Hm? Oh. We could just say nothing. I mean, I haven’t even seen a ring yet, so there’s nothing that could tip them off.”

Draco scoffed. “What exactly do you think? Four of them are Slytherins, one’s a Ravenclaw and the others are relentless. They _will_ know, even if we don’t tell them.”  
“Then I see no need to tell them either. Come on, Side-Along me. I’m cold.”

Back at Hogwarts, each was surprised to see the hallways full of students, even if it was past curfew and a stressful time for most of them. Potter spotted Neville, looking dishevelled and tired.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone out of bed?” Potter asked.  
Neville sighed. “Outburst of magic. Strong, uncontrollable bursts are coming from the dungeons, but everyone has been evacuated from there. We don’t know where it’s coming from exactly. Minerva and Flitwick are trying to locate and contain it. I was just about to send you an owl, they need a DADA professor. And Draco, you might want to go too. In case there are any hidden alcoves Salazar put in the dungeons.”

Draco and Potter shared a heavy look. “Are the students okay?” Draco asked, worrying already.  
“As far as we can tell, yes. I was just doing a headcount. Hufflepuff is complete. The other professors are getting water, blankets, pillows and some snacks to keep everyone calm.”  
“I can help for the Slytherins,” Draco offered. “Or get Scorpius to help, he knows everyone.”

Neville hesitated, eyes roaming the Great Hall. “Draco. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen Scorp. Nor any of the others.”  
“What?” Potter barked. “Are you sure?”  
“Definitive. Even yours are gone.”  
“Stop dallying, Potter!” Draco called, suddenly from the other end of the hall. “We have something to fix here!”

He sped up his pace, striding towards the dungeons with a blank expression and balled fists. The few students he encountered, he patted on the shoulder and exchanged a couple of hushed words, none of which Potter could hear.

It wasn’t difficult to find the other professors. The sparks flying from magic-containing spells always were loud, especially when clashing with unknown magic.

“It’s Dark,” Potter said, immediately drawing his wand and joining Minerva and Flitwick in sending containing spells.

“No, it’s not,” Draco countered, casting a Shield to block his colleages’s magic.

“Mister Malfoy –“  
“It’s not Dark. It’s involuntary. The result of a Dark curse, radiating. Trying to contain it, will only make it worse.”  
“How do you know?”  
“How do I know anything to do with Dark magic?” Draco bit, flicking his eyes from Minerva to Potter, after which he took a breath and rolled up his sleeves. His Mark was on display, and even though Potter had gotten used to it, in this context, it made something crawl on his back. Draco ignored the burning gazes on his arm, and turned his back to them to start working on the wall beside them.

“Am I correct in assuming you are warding the entire dungeons to contain the magic?” he asked.  
Flitwick nodded. “Just until we know where it’s from.”  
“Well, you’re close. It’s right here, actually. I’m surprised you didn’t realise.”  
“How so?”

Draco sent a bemused glance over his shoulder. “Since this a secondary entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”

When he didn’t get a response, he stilled for a moment, shoulders tensing.

“I thought that was known already. Sorry. Anyway. Something must be radiating Dark magic. It’s not stable, so it could be responding to something else. Potter, you’ve seen the Chamber when it was… in use. Can you describe it?”

Potter cleared his throat. “Is that necessary?”  
“Would I ask if it wasn’t?”  
“Malfoy, what even are you doing? If this is Dark magic, don’t you think I should be working on it? As the resident Defense Against the _Dark Arts_ Professor?”  
“Are you still able to speak Parseltongue? Would you be able to open the Chamber?” Draco snapped. “I thought not. Just answer the question.”

Minerva stepped closer to hold Draco’s wand arm still. “You may be overreacting, Draco. You can’t speak Parseltongue either, you can’t open it, if indeed this is the Chamber of Secrets. Can’t you talk to us, tell us your suspicions? There is no hurry?”

“No hurry?” Draco breathed, turning around with his hand clenched around his wand. “My children have not been seen in the Great Hall, in a period where I have been assaulted and my children have been hurt in the worst possible ways. But sure, let’s _have a biscuit_ , why don’t we?”

“Then still,” Flitwick cut in. “How are you going to open the Chamber? As Minerva said, you can’t speak Parseltongue.”  
Draco swallowed. “No. But I constantly carry the DNA of someone who can.” He tried to catch Potter’s eyes, but they were firmly set on his arm, and where the vague lines seemed to become more pronounced.

“That has never been enough, has it?” Flitwick asked suspiciously.  
“Ever since Riddle died, it has been.” Draco sighed. “The magic he installed was desperately looking for any piece of his DNA. The Mark is enough now. Can I get back to work?”

Potter frowned, finally looking up. “Just talk to us, Malfoy. Tell us while you work.”  
“All right. Salazar Slytherin was a sneaky little bastard. He spent all his time creating halls, rooms and corridors, from where he could control the entire castle. The knowledge of these spaces disappeared through time, until the Dark – Tom Riddle did some research and combined legends from several ancient pureblood families. That’s how he found the Chamber. He allowed a few people with ‘special missions’ to go inside. It was simple actually, Salazar had put strict wards on those areas, and Riddle managed to get through. Then, he altered the wards to allow those with the right knowledge – like a password – and the Mark. After his death, the Mark alone was enough. The point is, ever since our sixth year, I’ve been able to open it. I – did, once or twice. That basilisk is ginormous, by the way, Potter, you’re such a show-off.”

Minerva had started frowning early on, and hadn’t stopped. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it as there was a click.

“Got it. Enter carefully and shield yourself. Whatever this is, it’s not easy,” Draco warned.  
“Malfoy, let me go first. Please,” Potter said.  
“Do you know the way through this maze? No, but I do. You can be all big bad Auror when we’re inside. I’ll need your guidance then.”

Minerva nodded, directing Flitwick to stay and guard the entrance, before gesturing Draco that he should go in.

Draco had been right to call it a maze: several dead-end corridors made it difficult to navigate, and tracking spells all dismantled as soon as they were cast. Potter kept grumbling his protest, until it become lighter and they arrived where he had first seen Tom Riddle. Draco had managed to avoid the basilisk’s body, still rotting in the dungeons, but its tail could be seen from their vantage point.

“Where now?” Minerva asked. “Where is the magic coming from?”  
Draco look around. “Somewhere close. We’re close.”  
“That way,” Potter pointed, a yellow diagnostic spell leading them into one of the broader tunnels. Silently communicating with Draco, they decided that Potter would go first, wand in hand and measured, trained steps.

As they followed the yellow trail, Draco felt the wash of Dark magic, and something else that seemed familiar.

“Potter, stop,” Draco whispered. “Hold on. It’s not an object.”  
“You said something was radiating Dark magic.”  
“It’s not something, it’s someone. It’s involuntary, a response to something. Potter, I think it’ might be James.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“It’s James. This is his magic.”  
“Why would he be radiating Dark magic?”

Draco sighed, passing Potter to lead the way again. “Let’s find out.” Potter noticed that his hands were trembling, but he held his back straight and eyes focused forward. His steps were unhesitating, but his back muscles were clenching and unclenching as if he was trying to relax. He was terrified, Potter knew, but he couldn’t think of anything to calm him down. If only they would have rings on their fingers now, it would make it much easier. Just something tangible, to –

Some hundred metres away from them, behind a corner, the four Malfoys as well as James were stood.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Minerva spoke. “What are you doing here?”

Aquila looked up, pale, with wide eyes. “Head Mistress. James wasn’t feeling well.”  
“So you came down here?” Draco asked.  
“Papa!” he heard Scorpius and Cassie. Potter had hid himself in the shadows, moving towards the children, still cautious of his surroundings and the overload of Dark magic.

“We would have gone somewhere else if there would’ve been another safe place, of course,” Aquila continued.  
“How did you get in?”  
Cassie grinned. “What do you think? I did it. Obviously.”  
“All right, we’re going to be talking about that later. And what exactly is wrong with you, James?”  
“He has trouble containing his magic,” Scorpius explained. “We are trying to shield him, at least so he doesn’t harm himself.”

“Then why is Ophiuchus getting so close, if there is a danger of harm?” Minerva inquired disapprovingly, worried.

Draco shook his head. “Because, of all people, Phi is the one with the most experience in controlling magic. He knows best how to calm oneself to stop outbursts. Scorpius, stop shielding James. You’re making it worse.”

“Papa, if I drop the shield –“  
“Drop it.”  
“It’s really strong.”  
“Scorpius.”

Clearly hesitating, Scorpius stalled until Cassie nodded at him. Immediately after they had all lowered their wands, a blast of magic sprang free, blowing Phi against the wall. He quickly scrambled back up, towards James to speak to him in soothing tones.

“That’s all right, James. Don’t force it, you’ll be fine. Keep calm, no stress. Just focus on the feeling of your own magic. It’s right there, your core is right there. Feel it, feel how familiar it is? Focus on that.”

“I don’t understand what is going on,” Minerva said. “Draco?”  
“I don’t either, but I suspect it’s in line with everything else that’s happened. Someone who knows how to catch James off guard. It’s a curse, or at least a spell that throws him off.”  
Minerva nodded. “So a _Finite Incantatem_ should do it?”  
“Probably. Potter, can you? You’ll be most able to take the backlash.”  
“Dad’s here?” Scorpius asked, looking around.  
“Yes, he’s lurking there somewhere, in case something went wrong.”  
“But it didn’t,” Potter smiled, albeit a bit forced. He sent the _Finite_ to his son, relaxing his shoulders when it seemed to work and the oppressing magic disappeared. Aquila looked sheepish, mumbling something about how easy it actually was.

James sat down heavily. “Did I hurt anyone?”  
“No,” Potter said, going his way to take him into his arms immediately. “Minerva, we have to talk soon.”

Draco chuckled. “That’s true. Apparently, it’s not just the Malfoy bloodline that people like to assault.”  
“Why are you so calm about this?” Cassie complained, already tucked into his side. Draco observed the tight way Potter held James, eyes closed and white knuckles, and resolved to offer him some tea later in the evening. They were both going to have nightmares tonight.

Scorpius, having thrown an arm around Phi the moment James was semi-okay again, rolled his eyes. “Because he doesn’t understand emotions.”  
“No, he’s relieved,” Phi mumbled. He looked tired, and was sporting a bloody nose from his smack against the wall. Scorpius didn’t seem to mind that Phi was using his pristine white shirt to wipe his nose. “Papa knows that it could have been much worse.”

“Well, if that’s all,” Minerva interrupted. “We should get you out of here and call the Aurors. Draco, you need to tell me everything you know about this Chamber and the second entrance.”

“Not the Aurors,” Potter protested, making Scorpius nod in agreement. “If this is only slightly connected to everything else, then the Aurors will probably come to suspect Draco again. Just make people think that James was doing something stupid, and give him ‘detention’. No outside forces.”  
“But James shouldn’t be blamed,” Draco added. “For promotional purposes, it would be better if one of my children would take the blame –“  
“I’ll do it!” Phi called.  
“- so that, when we reveal all the shit happening around us, this will add to our credibility. Also, if James becomes involved, we don’t know what its effects will be. It has to be centred on the Malfoys.”  
“Why wouldn’t it help if it was James?” Cassie asked curiously.  
“Because we should be seen as the sole victims. Otherwise, there’ll be people thinking it was someone who hated Dad. If it’s on Papa, we can get more _pity_ ,” Aquila answered, after which she narrowed her eyes at Draco and Potter, opening her mouth to say something else.

Draco cut her off with a glare. “We should get out. Minerva, I’ll tell you everything I know about this second entrance tomorrow. Can I first get my children to bed?”

Minerva smiled. “Of course. James, I would like to speak to you too, when possible. I’ll go tell Neville that everything is settled.”

After she had left, Potter sidled up to Draco. He didn’t say anything, but took his hand and squeezed it, still staring at James, who was now whispering with Scorpius.

“It’s escalating,” Draco murmured.  
Potter nodded. “We have to make it stop.”  
“Would you allow your children to stay up late tomorrow? We should make a plan.”

“A plan for what?” Phi asked.  
“Let’s go upstairs and go to bed,” Potter said in lieu of answering. He led the children away, leaving Draco to follow a bit slower with James – and deliberately too, if his look was anything to go by.

“So what happened?”  
James looked up at him. “A couple of things didn’t go so well today. Do you know where Albus is?”  
“Albus and Lily were nowhere to be found upstairs. We actually thought they would be with you.”  
“They aren’t. I need to know where they are. Papa, we _need_ to find them. I have Albie’s wand, he can’t protect himself.”  
“Why do you have his wand?”  
“Mine was taken away. Long story. We _have_ to find them as soon as possible.”

Draco took a breath. “Jamie, why did you break up with Suzanne? You seemed so smitten.”  
“I –“ James began, but quieted at Draco’s quelling look. “Okay. Yes. I’ll be honest. Merlin, you’re terrifying. Can we sit somewhere to talk?”

With a grin, Draco flicked his wand so the Chamber closed and another door appeared.

“Here we go,” Draco mumbled, showing James in. The instruments that were permanently placed in Merlin’s Office were still as he had left them before. James sat down on the piano bench, where Potter had sat before Draco had been admitted to the hospital.

“So,” Draco sighed, sitting down opposite. “Spit it out.”

“All right, here we go. Suzanne… Okay. I found that Suzanne was acting oddly during your trials, and especially after the curse. So I did some research and… well. Her parents are very close to the Head f the Department of Mysteries. They go out for dinner almost every week. It turned out that I had given Suzanne all kinds of information about you, which they used to get to you. It’s my fault, papa. That curse was _my_ fault!”

“No, it wasn’t. You know it isn’t. You fell in love, there is nothing wrong with that. She is to blame, not you.”  
“I should have paid more attention. I shouldn’t have told her about everything you did.”  
“Jamie.” Draco took James by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “It isn’t your fault. Do you realise that? Repeat after me, ‘it isn’t my fault’.”  
James chuckled. “It isn’t my fault. Okay. But we still need to find Albus and Lily.”  
“Why?”

Fiddling with his shirt, James didn’t look up in Draco’s eyes. “Because Manila is part of it too.”  
“What?”  
“You sound like a machine. But Manila’s parents are also very… anti-ex-Death Eaters. I overheard Manila whispering with Suzanne and Theresa, talking about their ‘plans’, and Manila was telling them all kinds of things that she could only have known from Albus. It was unnerving to hear them.”  
“When?”  
“Just a couple of weeks back. I confronted Suzanne about it, after which she, well, she cursed me. I started feeling angry and aggressive – I didn’t realise until I felt the urge to slap Albus. I was terrified of myself, and everything from there I don’t remember. I don’t know whether I actually hurt Albus or not. And now that Suzanne knows that I know, she may have gotten to Albus as well. I don’t know. But they’re _gone_ and I’m _scared_.”

Draco nodded. “We’ll be fine. Wait, what do you mean, Suzanne cursed you? What kind of curse was it?”  
“It sounded really weird, not like any other curse. Some kind of garbled language. It sounded a bit like Welsh, but not really.”  
“Gaelic,” Draco mumbled wisely. “That narrows it down considerably.”  
“Narrows what down?”  
“The amount of people that could have taught her that spell. There are very few wizards who know Gaelic spells, and most of them were Death Eaters. So there is only a small pool we have to search in.”  
“That’s terrifying.”  
“What is?”  
“How close we are getting to finding the person that is behind all this. What if we find them?”  
“We’ll see when the time gets there.”  
“But papa –“  
“Why is everyone adamant on doubting my words?”  
“Because you seem distracted and not very serious and worried.” At Draco’s confused look, James shrugged. “Yeah. Like, you say stuff like that it’s not my fault, but then you harp on me about what happened with this laser-like focus in your eyes, and then you zone out and say things without explaining. It’s… difficult to deal with.”

Draco swallowed. “Sorry. I guess I’m a bit in my own head.”  
“Why?”  
“Just… this business. It worries me, as you said.”  
“Naturally. Why don’t you just talk to someone about it? Why do you feel the need to keep it all to yourself when there are so many out there that actually want to share your worries?”  
“It’s not necessary to bother others with it.”

James stared at him disbelievingly. “I don’t believe you,” he said, for good measure. “I think you are insecure. I think you feel like people won’t love you if you admit that you worry about things. I think you don’t believe Dad loves you. Maybe you think he’s going to leave you if aren’t the ‘perfect’, ‘strong’, ‘independent’ man he ‘thinks’ you are.”

“Since when are you a Mind Healer?”  
“I just know my people. But?”  
“But. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I don’t think about it so much. I just know that it’s time for you to go to bed. And for me to find your siblings.”  
“Talk to Dad about it.”  
“James –“  
“Please?”

With a sigh, Draco nodded. “I will. Come on.” He dragged James from his place on the piano bench and playfully shoved him out of the room. They walked to the Great Hall in silence. Most students have left to their dorms already, with only a few upper years or curious Slytherins scattered around. They stared at him and James as they find their way to Potter, who was sitting on the Hufflepuff table with Albus and Lily listening to his rant.

“ – and you should never go away without informing the professors at a time like this, do you understand?”

Draco felt James relax at the sight of his siblings. However, they both tensed as Albus turned around, a painful looking slash over his face and a ripped sleeve.

“Albie?” James whispered, standing stock-still. As soon as Albus realised what James was afraid of, he shook his head.   
“It wasn’t you, James. Long story short, Lily and I went outside for a bit, but almost got hit by the Whomping Willow. Right, Lills?”

Lily nodded, sheepishly grinning but there was an odd glint in her eyes. She held on to Albus’s arm a bit too tightly for Draco’s comfort. James didn’t seem to notice; he engulfed them in a hug and gave them a scolding of his own.

Draco and Potter shared a look. “Tea?” Draco offered softly, smiling when Potter nodded eagerly.  
“Do you have chocolate?” Potter asked.  
“I thought you said I had to stop consuming so much chocolate. You told me to get rid of my stash!”  
“But you didn’t, did you?”

When Draco didn’t respond, but pretended to follow their children’s conversation, Potter punched him in the arm.

“Being in a relationship means listening to one another’s suggestions,” he growled. “Let alone being eng- oomph!”  
Draco quickly turned around to put a hand on Potter’s mouth. “Are you crazy? I know they’ll know soon enough, but if we tell them now, they won’t sleep until they’ve tortured us for hours!”  
Potter laughed, holding Draco’s wrist gently and taking it away from his mouth after placing a kiss on the inside. “It’s worth it to see how much you fear your own children.”  
“You’d fear them too if you’d survived two of their sessions.”  
“No, because I wouldn’t hesitate to tell them if something was bothering me,” Potter stated pointedly. He stood up from the table, crowded closer and rested his forehead on Draco’s shoulder. “Godric, I thought this day would be nice.”

Draco snorted. “Thanks, mate. Really appreciate it.”  
“Shut up, you know what I mean.”  
“I do. Are you tired? Can I do anything to help?”  
“Chocolate.”  
“Chocolate isn’t the answer for everything.” Draco felt Potter smile against his neck, warm, and soft, and far too intimate for the Great Hall with students around them. “Although, I guess I could be persuaded.”  
“Obviously. Because deep down inside, you want chocolate too. You’re easy for it.”  
“That’s true. I won’t argue.”

They laughed together, softly to keep it within the confines of their bubble. Draco wrapped an arm around Potter’s waist and squeezed, making him look up. “Let’s get the children to bed. I need my tea-and-chocolate therapy.”

Without further preamble, they hugged their children – Phi had already gone upstairs, exhausted as he was from trying to support James. Cassie and Scorpius left while whispering, shooting slightly anxious looks to every student that wasn’t explicitly their friend. Aquila kept staring at Draco and Potter, until Draco took her apart and hissed that there was a reason he wasn’t saying anything yet. She smiled then, kissed his cheek and said how happy she was for them, before she found Matias and left with him towards the Ravenclaw Tower. James and Lily also left after a hug and some kind smiles.

Draco thought they had all gone to bed now, but was surprised when Albus was stood behind him.

“Papa? Is everything all right now?” he asked, nonchalant but with searching eyes.  
“Yes, yes, it is. Why didn’t you leave with Scorp?”  
“Oh, I wanted to give him some time with Cass. They need their time together sometimes.”

Draco hummed. “Did you need to talk to me?”  
“No, not particularly. Not yet, anyway. Will you take care of Dad?”

The sudden question alarmed Draco, especially with their recent engagement in the forefront of his mind. “I – yes. Yes, I will. I don’t know whether you mean right now, or long-term, but I will. I hope you realise that.”  
Albus nodded. “I just think you two deserve each other. That you’re really good together. A kind of love that everyone should have.”

He said it like it was nothing, but Draco was rendered speechless. Albus’s smile turned smug, but he winced when the skin around the cut on his face was pulled tight.

“You should do something about that,” Draco said dumbly, before shocking into action and rummaging into his pockets. “I have Dittany right here, hold on. Where did I – oh, here.” He pulled a hipflask of Dittany from his belt and poured it on his hands, to carefully paint it on Albus’s face.

“Take this with you,” he said. “Twice a day. And talk to me, tomorrow. I don’t believe your story about the Whomping Willow for a second, if only for the fact that the Willow doesn’t make such a precise, thin cut.”

Albus grimaced, but nodded. “Tomorrow. See you, papa.”  
“See you.”

“So what’s with him?” Potter inquired the second Albus was gone.   
Draco chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I know.”  
“Why is it that all my children come to you with their trouble, instead of me, their biological father?”  
“Because all my children go to you. There has to be a balance, Potter.”

Potter grinned. He was impatient as they walked to Draco’s apartment within the castle, pushing and pulling until Draco finally managed to open the door. Potter immediately went to the kitchen to prepare some tea and get the chocolate, while Draco went to say goodnight to Phi.

They were done at the same time, meeting on the sofa with steaming mugs in front of them. Chewing on a piece of white chocolate, Potter seemed pensive.

“Malfoy –“ he began, then falling silent until Draco urged him with a hum. “Why do we only call each other by our last names?”  
“You called me by my first name in the Chamber of Secrets,” Draco commented, taking a sip of his tea and shuffling through the newspapers on his coffee table.  
“I did, but I didn’t think you had noticed.”  
“Of course I noticed. I notice everything you do.”  
“But you didn’t react any differently.”  
“Because I don’t think it’s such a big deal. I called you ‘Harry’ in the letter.”  
“And that isn’t a big deal?” Potter said in a high-pitched voice, slightly panicked. “It was a _goodbye_ , Ma- Dra- love.”

Draco snorted. “Very subtle.”  
“Don’t make fun of me.”  
“But that’s part of our relationship.”  
“Come _on_ , let’s just be serious for a moment.”  
“Okay, all right. Potter, for me, it’s habit to call you by your last name. Though I don’t have any real qualms about calling you by your first name. It’s up to you. I love you anyway.”  
Potter grinned. “How sweet. But, I don’t know how it would be to use first names. As you said, it’s habit. I wouldn’t know how it would be otherwise.”

Draco licked his lips, looking like the cat got the cream. “I have a proposal.”  
“Again? You already proposed.”  
“I propose that we… try it out, for a while. See how we feel about it. What do you think, _Harry_?”

Potter choked on his tea, sputtering until he got his breath back. “That’s unfair. You can’t just spring it on me. Not with a voice like _that_.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like you’re going to dance on ‘I Will Survive’ any second now.”

Laughing out loud, with his head thrown back, Draco patted Potter’s shoulder. “All right, all right. Let’s just finish this chocolate and head to bed, yeah?”

Potter grumbled a bit, but they sipped their tea in silence, cleaning it up and transfiguring the sofa into a bed. They got comfortable, tangled together, with Potter’s head on Draco’s chest. Just as Draco was falling asleep, he felt a warm breath tickle over his chest.

“Good night, _Draco_.”

He hated Potter for the shiver that ran over his spine and the following restless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also HIIIIII I MISSED YOU


	59. Planning the plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello lovelies! Another chapter is up. Again, sorry for the wait, but life gets in the way. I'm really trying to do it somewhat regularly, but yeah.
> 
> There's an overkill of the word 'just' in this chapter, whoops. I didn't feel like editing. I never do.

The next day, Draco had managed to assemble his children – all seven of them – after classes in an empty room. Potter, or, well, Harry, was late. So late, that Draco gave Scorpius the go ahead to start the meeting.

“All right, it’s been a while, but there seems to be more information on who the leader of this movement might be. I’m hereby giving the word to papa, as I have no idea what it’s about.”

Draco laughed. “I only know what I have been told, so I’d rather have James tell everything.”  
“Right, bother me with it, won’t you?” James grumbled jokingly. “Anyway, it has something to do with Albus, so to spare everyone’s feelings, I’d really like everyone to let me explain entirely, before interrupting.”

He took a breath, glancing at Albus to see him sitting calmly across the table, with a concerned Scorpius next to him.

“Suzanne’s parents are friends with Ms. Euripideia. The things I had told her about you, she blabbed to her parents, because of which many things could happen that none of us would have liked to happen. Like Papa in the hospital. And since then, I did a little research about the rest of our plus-ones, and I found out that Manila isn’t to be trusted either. Sorry, Albie. She’s close with Theresa and Suzanne. I overheard them a couple days back, she was telling them things she could only know from you. This ‘movement’ is much bigger than any of us expected.”

Scorpius slammed his hand on the table. “What? No! How dare she? Albus, why are you so calm, why aren’t you angry, why –“  
“Because I knew.”

A few heads snapped up, just as the door slammed open and P-Harry appeared in the doorway. When he noticed the tense silence, he softly closed the door behind him, sitting down with a sheepish look on his face.

“I knew,” Albus reiterated. “And Manila knows that I know. We’re both fooling each other. Or at least, trying to.”  
“What?” Potter mumbled to Draco. “What are we talking about?” Draco shushed him with a frown and a wave of his hand.

“Yeah, so, it’s a bit weird. We started ‘dating’ or whatever, and when I went to see her once, outside, I heard her talk to Suzanne. When Suzanne left, I confronted Manila about it, and we agreed to keep up appearances. She sometimes casually mentions papa, or Dad, and then tries to gauge my response. I do the same with her, though I don’t know whether she knows _that_.”

“Why are you still in a relationship then, if you know that neither of you is really into it?”  
“I never said that,” Albus countered. “I actually really like her. I don’t know whether she does all these things because her parents want her to, or because she believes in that anti-Death Eater nonsense as well, but I like her. She’s cool.”  
“It isn’t healthy,” Aquila said. “You know it isn’t.”  
“But I don’t care. As long as we don’t talk about it, we are wonderful together. We have so much fun!”

Harry itched his chin. “That’s not how relationships ought to work, especially when you’re this young and the relationship in itself is in such an early stage.”  
“It’s not as if I see her walking the aisle with me, or anything. It’s just fun, for now.”  
“But if she is helping her parents assault papa, should you even want to be with her?” Lily questioned. “I thought Slytherins cared for their family.”  
“I do! Believe me, I do, but I just. Ehm.” Albus turned to Scorpius with pleading eyes. “I just –“  
“Let’s not judge Albus for this. It seems he has his reasons for it, however much we might or might not approve. Of course, it can be discussed at a later moment, but it has no priorities for now,” Scorpius sighed, a vast difference with how he’d blown up just moments before. He cast a worried look at Albus, but shrugged and gestured to Draco to continue.

Draco nodded. “Right. What we should do, is make a plan. We started out well, with the positive publicity, and playing detective and such, but we have to do more. This evening after dinner, I have my appointment with Ms. Euripideia, and I will find out more about the prophecy – and hopefully about her allegiances. I am, however, sure that she is not the one to have started this movement, as I may have said before. There is someone higher up, but Ms. Euripideia may be the one to take the blame if something goes wrong.”

“So what’s your plan for tonight? What are you going to do?”  
“I’m not sure yet. I was actually going to see whether I could find out more about the documents I found in her office.”  
“What documents?” James asked.  
“Right,” Draco mumbled. Then he continued in a louder voice, “Last time I was there, I managed to get her out of the office for a moment. I cast a searching spell on my last name, and there was a massive amount of documents about the name Malfoy. I wasn’t able to read them, because I think everything is heavily warded, but maybe I can pry a bit deeper and find something new.”  
“How, if everything is as warded as you say it is?”  
“I know a couple of unwarding spells that leave next to no traces.”  
Phi frowned disapprovingly. “Papa, those are Dark spells. You told me.”  
“I said they were Dark so you wouldn’t tell anyone that I used them,” Draco deflected. He opened his mouth to say something else, when he saw the expression on Harry’s face.

“When did you use these not-Dark spells in the vicinity of Phi, then?”  
“Er –“  
“He was trying to get into your apartment, Dad,” Phi interrupted. “I had to come with him, because he was too afraid to go himself.”  
“When was this?”  
“Somewhere halfway this year. He wanted to take back the book we had written for you.”

Aquila gasped. “Papa! Why? That’s not kind.”  
“You gave all kinds of personal information away to someone I didn’t want to be vulnerable with! That’s not very kind either,” Draco defended himself, a high blush on his cheeks. “Anyway, I didn’t get very far because suddenly _Albus_ came barging in.”  
“So _that’s_ what you were doing. I thought your story was weak.”  
Scorpius chuckled. “What did he say, that he wanted to surprise Dad with a clean apartment?”  
“Well, something equally ridiculous at least. But we’re going off topic. Unwarding spells?”

Glancing at Harry, who was wearing a vaguely amused smile, Draco eagerly continued his explanation.

“Right, so I could do those and maybe find something. But Ms. Euripideia would have to leave her office for quite a while for me to be able to cast the spells.”  
“We can cause a diversion,” Cassie piped up. “I have some sweet Weasley products, just _waiting_ to be used.”  
“We’ll be at the Department of Mysteries, Cassie. You can’t just get in there, let alone while carrying dungbombs or firecrackers. They won’t allow it.”  
“Also, if the diversion is too suspicious, she’ll leave a See-All with me, and then I won’t be able to do a thing. It has to be subtle,” Draco frowned. When Harry perked up with an apparent idea, Draco shook his head. “You aren’t subtle in the least, Harry. Let someone else do this.”

As Harry deflated, there were seven pairs of stunned eyes turned their way.

“You called him –“ James mumbled.  
“- _Harry_ ,” Phi filled in.  
“That’s disgustingly sweet,” Lily nodded.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, well. Things change. Can we get on?”  
“No, we can’t. So you have gotten to first-name basis? When did this happen?”  
“Yesterday, actually. Long story short, we –“

Draco punched Harry in the arm. “Kindly shut your gob. You’re encouraging them to be far too curious for their own good.”  
“As if their parents are good examples,” Harry snorted. “You forget that we constantly put ourselves in danger, for the sake of curiosity.”  
“ _You_ did. I’m a very good example.”  
“Except for those few years of stupidity,” Scorpius cut in, rolling his eyes. “Not that we mind, of course, but you can’t say you’ve always done the right thing. Now, are there any other pranging matters we should address, or can we continue with tonight’s plan?”

Scorpius, Albus and Aquila shared a private smile. Draco saw it happen and groaned. “All right, all right. You devils, I have no idea what I did to deserve you. Harry, just tell the story, short and to the point.”  
“What story?” Lily pouted.

Harry smiled. “Can we? Yay, I like that. Okay, so, yesterday we went to the beach. It was really beautiful, we had a lovely meal –“  
“I said short and to the point.”  
“- which Draco had made all by himself. He had never gone to the beach as a romantic outing before, and he kept saying how he hated it, but at the end he realised that it could actually be really fun, and he didn’t have to worry about his hair too much. We talked a bit – we are going to stay at Draco’s this summer, by the way, for a multitude of reasons – and then, ehm.”

Seeing that Harry was at a loss for words, and seeing the grins on their children’s faces grow wicked, Draco decided to do something about it. He took Harry’s hand and pushed the silver band on his finger.

“I hadn’t given you this yet,” he mumbled, sliding a matching one on his own. “Sorry.”

“When’s the wedding?” Aquila asked excitedly, shouting louder than the others. Harry snapped his head up to her, before shrugging and looking back at Draco.

“Ehm –“  
“Can we be bridesmaids?”  
“I want to be your best man. Can I be your best man?”  
“Finally!”  
“Congrats. Now can we get back to the matter at hand? Seriously, you’d think none of us knew yet.”  
“Only the three of you did, right?” Draco asked.  
“No, we all did. Some of us just liked to pretend they didn’t. Come off it, papa, you aren’t dense enough to think we hadn’t noticed. You go to a beach and be all cute and cuddly afterwards? That’s nothing like you.”

Harry gaped incredulously at Scorpius. “That’s –“  
“Yes, well. Ms. Euripideia. Diversion. Let’s think of ideas.”  
Cassie hummed. “It’s easy enough. We can get some kind of dangerous plant be put into the Department. When it starts breaking things, she’ll come out of her office.”  
“Sure, but how do we get a dangerous plant anywhere?”  
“Simple. Neville,” Phi suggested. “He has a lot of plants, right?”  
“He has a branch of the Whomping Willow that he is experimenting on,” Cassie nodded. “For now, the experiments have made the branch even more aggressive. It’s really fun, and would work well.”  
“The question remains how we could get it in the Department. They are adamant about security there.”

Harry looked pensive. “And yet, I was able to break in quite easily when I was younger. And knowing the Ministry, they won’t have updated any of the security systems.”  
“When I said we were bad examples as parents, I wasn’t inviting you to tell them about everything you’ve ever done,” Draco said drily. “But I suppose this idea is as good as any. We’ll just have to convince Neville to help us, but that won’t be difficult.”  
“It might be more of a hassle than you think. He doesn’t really like to break the rules,” Harry interrupted.  
“But it’s for a good cause, you know. Gryffindor righteousness.”

Even though Harry kept frowning doubtfully, Draco turned back to the others to continue the plan. “Cassie, if we put a branch of the Whomping Willow there, what will that branch do? Will it be terribly dangerous, or just a bit?”  
“Depends how close you get,” Cassie smirked. “She is more sensitive than the Whomping Willow itself, but not as powerful. She’s just really wild.”  
“And?”  
“Right. She’ll be trashing around, just trying to hit someone, but if you’re hit, you won’t get awfully hurt. You’ll bruise, probably, but no severe cuts or lasting damage.”  
“Is it – she easy to calm? How much time would it give us?”  
“Well, I expect Ms. Euripideia won’t be fixing it herself, so not very long. I think she’ll be called out to see what’s happening, she’ll call someone to get rid of it and return to her office. It’s going to be five minutes at most.”  
“All right. So what do we want Papa to do?” Scorpius asked. “What’s the highest priority at this point?”

Lily hummed. “I want to know who Ms. Euripideia listens to. Who her boss is. So we don’t accuse her of being the sole assaulter when she’s just the scapegoat.”  
James and Cassie agreed vehemently, but Albus and Scorpius seemed doubtful.

“I think we’re underestimating it, still,” Aquila said. “We’re underestimating how large, how complicated this movement might be. I think – I think it might be even more complex than the Death Eaters ever were.”

Phi nodded at that. “Let’s sum up who we know or suspect is part of it. We have Theresa of course, and Ms. Euripideia.”  
“Suzanne and Manila.”  
“Those two Aurors, what were their names? Whithal and Septimius. Someone at _The Daily Prophet_ as well.”  
“But that’s all we know, right? We have no other clues, no other leads,” Draco frowned. “It’s not much.”  
“Well, we have the woman who had been following you, the woman in black. Or was that Euripideia?”  
“And Arthur, Keira, Terence and Priscus. Who knows, maybe even Lazarus.”  
Draco looked at his hands. “And probably Lucia Lilacia as well.”  
“Lucia? Why would you think that?” Harry asked, while James bent over to Aquila to ask her who they meant.  
“That’s the girl Terence and Priscus were bullying when Papa caught them out. She’s a pretty silent one, so I don’t really understand why Papa would suspect her.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s… a long story.”  
“You promised us no more secrets.”  
“Right. So Harry, you know about the Wolfsbane I keep in my storage?” Draco started, focussing solely on Harry instead of on all of them. “In the beginning of the year, when I was experimenting with Neville’s plants, you asked why I had Wolfsbane in such large quantities. I told you there was a student with Lycanthropy.”  
“Oh, yeah, I remember. Their father was Muggleborn right, married to a Muggle woman? Erm, lycanthropy was inherited from their father, who had been bitten by Greyback during the war?”  
“That’s the one. I told my father this when I was in the hospital, and he reminded me that none of Greyback’s victims had had inheritable lycanthropy. So yes, the student had lycanthropy, but the background story was probably fake. So Lucia, the one with lycanthropy, has been taking my Wolfsbane potion, but if her story is not true, I’m pretty sure that she’s part of the movement as well.”  
“But – why? How? With whom would she be in touch?”  
“We all know how well Theresa can make one like her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ‘protected’ Lucia against bullies, and make her loyal. It’s a simple yet effective method of indebting people to you.”

Scorpius nodded pensively. “The last couple of months, she didn’t need my company during the full moon. I thought it was odd, but she was adamant that I stayed away. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn if there was someone else with her now.”  
“So. That’s a pretty long list of people we know personally – or semi-personally – that are involved. Imagine how many more are part of it. If all the parents of these students are part of the movement, we have a lot of trouble coming up.”  
“Just hold up one second, just one second,” Harry shook his head. “Scorpius has been keeping a werewolf company during full moon? How – what – no!”  
“Calm down, Harry. I told you how my Wolfsbane works –“  
“It’s a _werewolf_! During _full moon_!”  
“ _She_ is a werewolf, not _it_. Secondly, my new Wolfsbane keeps one sane and diminishes the urge to kill or shed blood. She only needs raw meat instead of cooked, and she’ll be fine. Company even makes it easier for her not to lose her mind. Scorpius was entirely safe.”  
“But you said he was taken to the hospital wing regularly.”  
“I was,” Scorpius said, “because of my own mistakes. When a person turns, they trash around. It hurts, the reshaping of one’s bones. Especially because no werewolf turns voluntarily, and they often try to fight it. Every time that I was hurt, it was because I stayed too close during the turning. It was my fault, every time.”

Albus nodded then. “That’s true. With papa’s Wolfsbane, werewolves are no danger. Not if they don’t want to be.”  
“Besides, this is not important now,” Scorpius added. “We are supposed to be making a plan for tonight. Can we just get to business?”

With that reminder, they focussed back on the matter at hand, even though Harry kept mumbling about danger and werewolves for a long time. Draco eventually silenced him with a snap about Harry always having trusted Professor Lupin.

After their meeting, Draco and Cassie walked up to the greenhouses where Neville was working. Cassie pointed through the glass at the branch of the Whomping Willow that they were hopefully going to use. It seemed calm, just like any other branch, but ruffled its leaves when they entered the greenhouse.

“Draco! I haven’t seen you in here since your admission. Come to tell me new secrets?” Neville grinned. He smiled at Cassie and gave her his sprayer. Without questioning, she walked towards one corner of the greenhouse – immediately hidden by massive plants – and did whatever she was supposed to do.

“Is that safe? To have Cass work with magical plants? She’s only a second-year, does she know enough?” Draco worried.  
Neville laughed. “You know Cass. And I told you, she’s been here since her first week at Hogwarts. She knows these plants just as well as I do, perhaps even better. She’ll be fine. Now, was there a reason for your visit?”  
“Does there have to be?”  
“Of course not, but knowing you, there is. Don’t worry about Cassie, she won’t hear a thing. The differing magical atmospheres are soundproof.”  
“All right. Well, you see, I’m going to see Ms. Euripideia today, and I need time in her office to peek through some of her files. So we need a diversion for her to leave her office.”  
“And you needed my help?”  
“Exactly. Cassie thought we could put that branch of the Whomping Willow in the entrance hall of the Department of Mysteries. Euripideia would probably be called out of her office to see what’s going on, and I would have time to search.”

Frowning, Neville fiddled with one of the plants. A green flower bloomed in rapid speed, and died right after. Neville added some potion, after which the dead flower bloomed again, staying alive for a longer while, until it browned again.

“The magical bubble around this plant isn’t quite correct yet, but I don’t know how to change it. Higher and lower both don’t work. It’s difficult,” Neville explained at Draco’s look. Then he cleared his throat.

“Look, Draco, I understand why you’d need my help, but I – I don’t want to. Sorry.”  
“Harry said you wouldn’t. Why not?”  
“I just don’t. I don’t think it’s right to break into a Ministry department. Or anywhere, for that matter.”  
“How else are we supposed to find out who has been assaulting me?”  
“There must be other ways. Aren’t you Slytherins all about finding new ways?”  
“No, that’s the Ravenclaws. Neville, come on. What’s really bothering you?”  
Neville sighed. “I don’t want to break into the Department of Mysteries. The last time I did that, I was hunted by Death Eaters. There are things I don’t want to repeat.”  
“There aren’t any Death Eaters now.”  
“No, but there are people willing to hurt and torture,” Neville snapped. “Sorry. I mean, the people we’re trying to find have hurt you and others so much. If they find me in the Department of Mysteries, if they realise that that plant is mine – which they will, my magical signature is all over it – they will not only take revenge on me, but they can also arrest me. It’s illegal, in case you didn’t know yet.”

“I know, Neville,” Draco retorted. “Forgive me for thinking you were in Gryffindor.”  
“That doesn’t mean I’m willing to put my life on the line.”  
“And yet, you did, in the War. You killed Nagini, for Merlin’s sake. You already once broke into Mysteries. Why worry now, with people you’ve got far less to fear of?”  
“Because I don’t think this time it’s just as important as the last time!”

Draco took a step back, gnashing his teeth. “I understand. You don’t care whose lives are in danger now. When it was Potter, you were willing to help him, but I’m not as important. My children aren’t as important.”  
“Draco –“  
“No, no. Never mind. I can see I was wrong in asking you this. I’ll think of something else then. Sorry for bothering you.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous –“  
“I only thought you would help us, since you owe me, and all.”

A heavy silence hung between them, Neville wearing a disbelieving expression and Draco a blank one. His Malfoy mask had carefully taken any indication of his thoughts away from Neville.

“Why would I owe you?”  
“Just, in the beginning of the year, when you dosed me with Veritaserum. We agreed that you owed me. It’s the honourable thing to do.”

Neville’s eyes grew wide and he snorted. “You are unbelievable,” he said eventually. “You really are a slimy Slytherin. We’re friends, Draco. As a friend, you should accept it if I say no. As a decent human being, you should accept it if I say no. But coming around with saying that I _owe_ you, is going a bit far. I _owe_ you a couple drinks at most. Not facing a childhood trauma.”

“I completely understand,” Draco nodded. “Don’t worry about. I graciously accept your rejection. I just don’t agree with it. If we really are friends, you would help me if I was in danger. But I suppose we have different opinions on the concept of friendship. Good to know.”  
“You know what? Get out. If you’re going to go all ‘hurt and dejected’ on me, I’m done. I said no, and that’s my final answer. You’re not going to manipulate me into saying yes. Get out before I do something to you,” Neville growled, turning around to fiddle with the plant again.

When Draco left the greenhouse, the door swung close with a bang behind him. He watched through the glass to see Cassie peek between some plants. At their eye contact, she ducked away and continued with her plants, pretending she hadn’t noticed a thing.

Draco sighed. That backfired spectacularly. And it had resulted in a fight between him and Neville. Better find some rare plant to make it up to Neville, Draco thought.

Pondering what he could do, he wandered over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was warm out, midsummer and the end of the schoolyear having arrived in top speed. Time was going way too fast. In only a few months, all of his children would be attending Hogwarts. He would get to see his youngest under the Sorting Hat, a privilege not many parents got. In what House would Phi get sorted? Would he be able to control his Metamorphmagus and Animagus abilities?

Would his children be safe?

Salazar, he worried too much. First, the summer. No, first the N.E.W.T.s. There was no reason to think of anything beyond, yet.

Draco sighed again. He should spend the next few hours until dinner checking some N.E.W.T. assignments and helping a few of the struggling students.

And so he did. He sat in his office in the dungeons with his door open, trying to focus on assignments of his third- and fourth-years. Their essays, however, were all horribly bad and he winced with almost every written word. He put Scorp’s, Albie’s and Aquila’s essays to the side, wanting to read those as last, because they were hopefully not as bad.

He put the essays to the side with a relieved huff when there was a knock on his door.

“Professor, can I come in?” a familiar voice said, far too innocent for what Draco knew.  
“Of course, Theresa. Do you need help with your N.E.W.T.s?”

Theresa scrunched up her nose. “Do I ever?”  
“There’s a first time for everything. Why are you here?”  
“I had a question. About… that curse.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to talk to you about anything like that and you know why. If that was all, I’d rather have you gone.”  
“How were you cured?”  
“As I said –“  
“Was it James? He’s good at Potions. Did you know that his girlfriend hates you just as much as I do?” Zarnel taunted suddenly. “How hurt would he be if someone told him of how much use Suzanne has been to us. Don’t you think? Anyway, about that question I had, I’m sure you’re willing to listen now.”

Standing up, Draco walked up to Zarnel and smiled. “James knows. James broke up with her. Close the door when you leave.”

For a split second, Zarnel’s facial expression fell, but she squared her shoulders again. “And dear Albie’s girl has been saying such awful things about you –“  
“Albus knows as well. How kind of you to consider their feelings, Zarnel, but your _news_ is not new at all. We’re not stupid.”  
“And yet, you haven’t once noticed how Wolfsbane has gone missing –“  
“You mean Lucia? I do know, and I also know you have been keeping her company. How very original of you, to gain someone’s loyalty by protecting them against bullies. It’s not as if my father hasn’t used the exact techniques in his _services_ to Riddle.”

A vicious grin appeared, making Zarnel suddenly very ugly. “Oh dear, I just realised. How did you feel when you found out Scorpius wore the Dark Mark as well? Did that hurt? I bet it must have. You have tried so hard to _protect_ your children. And Cassie, making such a big mistake. Scorpius was ruined when he heard about Cassie! Can you imagine what might happen if he had to endure one more such blow?”

Fighting the urge to grab Zarnel at her shoulders and shake her until she said exactly what she meant by that, Draco stayed quiet, waiting for Zarnel’s pride to make an appearance.

It did, luckily. Zarnel wanted so badly to hurt Draco, to make him snap, that his apparent disinterest made her spill her secrets much quicker.

“Let’s sum up what has happened to him, yes? He got the Dark Mark of course, and whatever else Terence and Priscus did to him. He was beaten up. He had to see his little sister crumble because she made a stupid mistake. He had to help his little brother when he was crying time and time again here at Hogwarts, because he felt like shit, or because he had morphed into Voldemort again. He had to see _you_ dying, because you didn’t stand up for yourself. And I dare say that he won’t be able to take much more before he breaks.”

She circled Draco, her eyes flitted towards his desk. Draco waved his wand and blocked her path with an invisible wall, grinning when Zarnel’s plan so obviously failed.

“We have two options, and we’re not yet sure what to do. We could either set our eyes on Aquila,” Zarnel continued casually, “since she isn’t as protected as the others are. She doesn’t sleep in Slytherin dorms, so she can be easily gotten to. We can hurt her, break her, make her our victim. You know as well as I do that Scorpius won’t survive that. Or, we could change tactics and turn to Jackie.”

Jackie? Draco thought, but didn’t say. Better let Zarnel do her talking.

“Jackie, our dear Jackie. She hated you so much at first, but then she noticed how _kind_ and _caring_ you were. She wrote that sweet article about you in _The Prophet_ when you were in the hospital, about second chances and forgiving and whatnot. But she’s vulnerable. Her parents are awaiting sentence, and we can easily get them killed. Or a Kiss, who knows? So many possibilities. And Jackie, oh Jackie. If _she_ gets hurt, Scorpius will lose it. Such a brave girl, one with so much love to give. Scorp’s heart would certainly break if Jackie was to be in the hospital. Don’t you think?”

A last grin was sent Draco’s way before Zarnel walked to the door. “Anyway, enjoy your evening!” she called, humming as she walked away from his office.

Draco breathed out. Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, it's my birthday. Whooooo me! I just thought you should know.
> 
> Also also, there's (hopefully) coming a new chapter next week, since you know, this one ends with a cliffhanger.


End file.
